kayaking asia with full moon

独木舟探游澎湖群岛 (Penghu Islands Kayak Expedition)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Sat, 05 Aug 2017 23:04:00 +0000

2017年夏季，8 人7天划独木舟探游澎湖群岛。全程100公里。

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我们第一天抵达澎湖做的第一件事就是去'摸船'。我们从台湾独木舟推广协会租的海洋舟已送达起点。这些5米长的塑胶海洋舟是我们探游澎湖的方式。我们是计划7天的 '自包' 行程，所以全部的行李和水都须放进独木舟里。因为是多天的海洋行程，又是第一次看到要用的船，我们必须彻底了解船只的一切。比如划艇舱有多少空间，足以容纳我们的东西吗？要看了才知道怎么塞，不但要把所带的物件挤进防水舱还要把重量平钧地分散。除此之外，我们式穿了防水裙，也调整了船舵。不管是狂风巨浪还是风平浪静，在海上就靠这艘独木舟了。另一个挑战是导航，因为这都是我们第一次来澎湖。除了指南针，我们也做了不少资讯考察，准备了地图，有全球定位系统坐标（GPS），等等。同时，我们邀请一位台湾皮划艇朋友（秋先生）参与这次的远征，给予我们澎湖海域和当地知识的协助。队友都把船'摸'好了！我们兴致勃勃，期待明天启程。

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第一天，我们从澎湖划到了鸟屿 (Niaoyu island)。这岛上有独特的火山石 (玄武岩)。我们沿岸近划着，望着一支支长长的岩石柱林立冲天，甚为壮观。看着看着，也开始觉得这些岩石柱看似堆齐层层的意大利面！也许是因为接近午餐时间，眼前的事物都让我们联想到食物。我们终于在鸟屿的沙滩停泊，到小镇寻吃。在这炎热的夏天，特别想吃刨冰！我们居然在一个小档口找到了冰凉解渴的刨冰，加上一碗可口的牛肉面和鲜甜的炒花枝 (squid)。有口福了！填饱肚子后，我们继续往北上险礁屿 (Xianjiao island)，这小岛曾住着一个老伯伯。但因为每次台风吹袭都要把他从岛上撤离，当地政府决定把他搬迁到别处。现在岛上只剩下一间被风雨侵袭的旧屋。那几乎被淡忘的美丽沙滩也成为北极燕鸥(arctic tern) 的栖息地。

在澎湖划独木舟参考潮汐表非常重要。我们因在最低潮抵达吉北屿 (Jibei island)，找不到可以上岸的地方。澎湖在几百年前就把珊瑚礁石一块块地排成两米高的弯钩石沪 (stone weir)。这古老的建造方式在澎湖到处可见。它在海上的作用又是什么？堆积起来的珊瑚礁石制造了许多小洞口，是鳗鱼最爱迷藏的地方。只有一个进出口的石沪也就变成了一个潮满时的食区，潮退时的鱼井！当天潮退时我们不易而然划进了一个石沪，被快速退出的潮水搁浅。在石沪里到处都是小珊瑚，不想踏垮小生物的我们进退两难。最后我们还是小心翼翼地延着石沪旁最深的水走了出去。我们终于找到了一个没有珊瑚的进口，在沙滩100米外的岩石上登陆。

在夕阳下，我们把一艘艘重重的船慢慢地扛上了沙滩的小斜坡。在这柔和的光焰下和队员们相互支持的精神，即使整天的行程再漫长，心头还是暖暖的。晚上我们骑着单车去了吉贝镇中心吃个海鲜大餐，体验小岛夜晚的热闹气氛。丰盛的一餐后，唯一的休闲就是逛全家（台湾的7-11）买零食！

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隔天，我们趁早骑着单车绕岛游览，到了一个百岁的石沪群。这吉贝岛上的石沪群原来是世界上最密集的石沪之一！这奇观的建筑方式，是以海为田的先民们创造出的生活佳作。我们继续骑到一间古庙，再穿过少见的松林园。岛上的最高处，除了灯塔，四周都是浓绿的草地和艳丽的野花。那天人菊，尤其漂亮典雅。一小时后，我们又换了衣，涂上防嗮油，拿起划桨，准备出发。

离开吉贝后，往东南方划到的第一个小岛，铁砧屿 (TieZhen Island)，有个特大的海窟。它既能闭风又能躲太阳，功能比什么防晒油都好！我们在阴凉的海洞里享受片刻的安宁。偶尔只听见海浪轻微地拍着岩石。铁砧屿不远处就是我们今天午休的地方，姑婆屿 (GuPo Island)。一颗树都没有的小岛有佳滩清水，也有被遗弃的游客接待中心。感觉似乎年复一年的风雨卷走了荒岛上仅有的活力。吃了饭，睡了小觉，我们又再'上海'。划过没有气息的土地岛，接近跨海大桥，进入合界村的沙滩，我们到了今天的终点, 西屿 (Xiyu Island)。

又是退潮，又是远，又是使力搬船的时候。今晚住在浪漫海景木屋，第二层躺在床上时能欣赏海景，底层是用暗门秘密入口的超大安慰房。睡房的格调优质舒适，踏入了就不想离开。落阳陪伴，我们走进了后螭村。经过小学、庙宇、乘凉喝酒的哥儿们、老墙街坊、小菜园，大概两公里后终于到了竹湾村的大义宫。村长的家在附近。人家都说村长的家也是餐馆，有好吃价格合理的美食，所以再远我们也要来！没想到这里也有刨冰！先来10碗再说！

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我们的行程一天比一天长。昨天18公里，今天又增加到24公里。当我们8点出发时，太阳已经是热的不得了。因为正在涨潮，桥下的水逆着我们流得非常急，费了好大的力气才能划过去。再睡不醒，也要打起精神拼命！今早前往的是二坎村, 澎湖一个闻名的百年古村落。但因为村落在小山后，在海上低低的小船什么都看不到。到底在哪里可以下船呢？我们的队员问了一群在钓鱼的朋友，他们不但指引方向，还送了好多包冷冷的饮料。在这大热天把它喝下，爽死了！

二坎村很有历史特色。有狭窄的小巷子，传统食物店，和多间旧古风格的珊瑚住宅。在这吃喝歇息最棒 - 可享用花枝串、豆花、海鲜，还有驰名的仙人掌沙冰。穿着救生衣在古村走走倒是很有意思！为了追潮，我们12点钟在大太阳下开始往南，船准向12公里远的桶盘岛 (Tongpan Island) 划去。桶盘岛好像停留在另一个时代。它辉煌的时候因该是海产资源丰富，经济前进的几十年前。那时候的桶盘岛一定是个很赞的旅游景点。现在的它只剩一个水深阔美的港口来接待乘搭快艇的游客。他们停泊也只是短短的10分钟，让游客买饮料上卫生间，接着就乘船绕岛一圈，观赏岛上著名的玄武岩石柱。

我们一小时走岛一圈一个人也没看见。看到的是一堆堆的塑胶垃圾，破损的走道。好像来到了一个旅游古迹。我走完后遇上的一名老鱼夫，现年60多岁。他说在岛上的居民从以前的几百人剩下现在的几十位。他的六个孩子没一个住在岛上。他们不是居住在高雄就是台中。这里留下的是一栋栋被遗弃的房子。岛上有水（海水淡化），有电，有景，有家...就是没有好的前景。

相反的，对面2公里远的虎井屿 (HuJing Island)，我们今天的终点站，是一个美丽的村镇。有整齐干净的居区，美寺，和景如明信片般的小港口。我们的民宿在小坡上，走上它窄小的小巷，感觉好像在地中海的港口小镇。晚上，我们都到陈里长的小餐厅吃饭。都是新鲜的生蚝，珠螺（海蜗），鱼蛋，当天捕到的鲜大金鲳鱼，等美食。一道道具有本地特色的菜肴都是陈里长亲自下厨，很有家的味道！在台湾的夏天真的少不了刨冰。这岛虽没有全家...但还是有卖冰！

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今天是我们至今最长的行程；26公里。但是因为顺潮溜，我们最佳的出发时间又是中午时分！所以我们又骑单车游览虎井的西山。从那高处可以360度看遍澎湖群岛。山上还有观音像和世界二战日军挖的隧道和地下监视所。还有，陈里长所谓的“随便大便”的羊群。喝了鱼汤吃了炒饭后，我们出船继续南下往望安屿 (WangAn Island)。途中我们在GPS 北纬度 N23 26 13 停下来拍照，因为我们越过了北回归线（Tropic of Cancer）！是我第一次划过这条'巨蟹座回归线'。过了这里气候会更加炎热吗？

下一个上岸休息的地方是18公里后的中社村（花宅聚落）。这村有澎湖一些最老的珊瑚村房，已有几百年的历史。设计独特的门窗和整修后的古石头屋，显示先人就地取材的生活方式与信仰。他们取珊瑚礁盖房子的准备工作要长达一年的时间！享用清爽的海底燕窝和香浓冰咖啡后，我们五点时分又登船划向望安。到了網垵口沙滩已经黄昏。

今天的夕阳是我们在澎湖见到最迷人的了，在沙滩上看着云朵在红天漫无目地地变化, 色调层层多彩。就当我要把船扛上时，有只金毛猎犬从我身后跑了过来，趴在船头前不动。要怎么办呢？小朋友，好狗不挡路，天快暗了，让我把独木舟搬上沙滩，好吗？它的目光就只望着别处，懒洋洋地呆着。看它那么写意，就在这悠闲的黄昏跟狗狗一起放空吧！

我们在望安住了两天。第二天也是骑着单车环岛看看，还去岛上的綠海龟保育中心，了解他们当地的保护计划。当烈阳没那没嗮时，我们把船划到岛角浮潜。那里的海洋生物丰富多样。有延续不断的珊瑚，色彩艳丽完整，偶尔还有鱼群穿梭。能看见海龟，我们更是兴奋！海水再冷，也是值得！

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今天的30公里到马公市 (Magong City) 会难吗？在这一片蓝蓝的海上，你会想什么？想人，想家，还是这行程所遇过的人海景事？我想...这么热的天气、再划下去会热死吗？！其实漂泊在海上是一种很幸福的感觉。有轻风的陪伴，海浪的起伏推动，浪花的琴声安抚，心情也开始渐渐平复。所有心烦意乱的事都被冲走了。不管大海掀起多么大的浪花，脸上滴了多少汗珠，留下的只是平静辽阔的心境。接近终点，有股冲劲想直奔马公市，多半的我却又依依不舍大海的怀抱。

The Albino Eagle, A Black Fin

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Fri, 30 Dec 2016 00:57:00 +0000

Bringing kayaks down to the muddy beach with the help of villagers.

Without warning the ustadz spoke through static. Our pre-dawn wake time came from the cold loudspeaker. Room lights were turned on, adding orange glow of windows against the dark sea.
The mothers prepared breakfast silently but quickly, shuffling out plates and thermal flasks onto our table. I flipped over a plate expecting our daily portion of mee goreng. Like many places in the archipelago, indo-mee goreng was a staple and favourite of the locals - and us. Breakfast was crispy fried tapioca and coffee.

Below our stilted kampong houses where our kayaks were stored, dark shadows with headlights moved a kayak to the stinky mud exposed by the receding tides. The shadows climbed down a steep wooden ladder on the mud shore, leaving foot sized craters, silverly with the first rays of sun on its water refills.

Inside our room, packed bags were in every corner. The rasp of plastic bags heard near and afar. The floor was strewn with little items reserved for pre-launch packing, like toiletries and rations. As the room brightened, small children wriggled on the mattress. Some cried.

We looked at the pile of packed bags and hesitated, nonchalantly counting how many back and forth walking we needed. There was always something left behind, plus the 12 cartons of water that had to go into our kayaks. Out Host heaved one heavy carton on his thick shoulder and skipped to the beach. The holds of the Feathercrafts started filling with small bags and blue bottles.

Almost Ready! Must catch the right timing for the tides.

The brooms were again scrapping lines on the sandy street. The vegetable seller sat in front of our kayaks with her basket of leafy greens. It was fully bright. Someone using the school’s loudspeaker started shouting names who were late. Heavy bags on little feet ran. Another kayak was squeezed out from storage and carried to the mud. A crowed gathered to watch, squatting or sitting on the hardwood boardwalk, hands capped above their brows.

Everyone has their own preferences on how to load the kayak. With all the gear were carried down, packing became . What bags to put where and how to balance 12 water bottles in the holds. In such an early morning, you gave advice at your own peril. A loose kayak frame, forgotten bags, overly large bag….there were many things that could mess up one’s packing plan. A frown or slightly audible exhaled surprise could be sufficient signal that all was not well with one’s packing.

Finally we were ready. Out Host gathered everyone for a quick picture. One by one, we slide our legs into the Feathercrafts, loop the sprayskirts, the paddle was given a quick rinse and lifted up for our first strokes. And if one had cared to look around at that moment, when everyone was poised to start, it was not us who were moving but the mountains, the anchored boats around us, the village behind us, that all started to move. We were in the middle of a transformation.

Lining up before the Lintah Straits

If felt as if the village started to fold up, like an origami paper, transforming itself into lines so thin one could only see it from a precise angle. From where I was paddling I could only see green grass and hills, where was the village? I looked up and saw an albino eagle clutching a stick of fire, flapped its wings and soared, and dropped the fire stick on where the village was.

Flames and smoke behind me, in front the sea.

And the sea this morning was so smooth she beguiled us, expressing her moods through light reflected off her surface. She was calm, she was a keeper of light, which covered her with a protective foil. Her entire surface was held together with impenetrable wax. Later when she raged, she cut light into thousands of pieces that shoot off her in a series of flakes and flashes.

Unlike in sports where sometimes time slowed in the midst of action, everything happened in double quick time paddling in strong tidal currents. I saw the kayaks in front turned away suddenly by the tidal streams. Flashes of light shot up in bursts from the sea. The streams pushed, like an arching back of a dragon in flight, the front kayaks so much that instead of looking at their stern I was facing their port side.

Very smooth seas before the chaos later.

To paddle the sea and to do such a crossing, one had to feel her. It wasn’t just more power, or looking at a point on the opposite island and arms punching. We had to find ways to slow time down. Elation, sadness, anxiety, hope, regrets…one had to pour into her, discharged everything into her depths and let these feelings recycled with her flowing streams. Holding the paddle like a brush, one had to know when to put in the hard strokes and when to lightly sweep the canvas. When one’s will to surrender, be like water, the sea would show her grace.

“Keep to 135 degrees!”

And to no avail. I radioed again the few times I could take my hands off the paddle. Just think of us paddling up a slope, and we were sliding ‘down’ towards an open sea. The change of tides was due in an hour, so the best option to do was to paddle on and stay in position. It was surreal paddling against the currents, where the desired island got further by the minute and there was not much one could do about it. The high peaks of the islands shifted such that the higher ones overtook the shorter ones, and beaches which were once by our side now slipped behind view. Near to protruding rocks, one could see not only the gush of waters but actually hear them. As soon as the rock was in sight it drifted away, but it was us who continued our slide.

At last when there was no more water flowing into the Indian Ocean, the sea flattened all her waves and as if we were on a carousel, we slowly circled back. The island that was getting smaller now became larger by the minute.

It was then that the black fin appeared, moving toward me.

Paddling close to Padar Island.

Each time I saw dolphins or whales during a crossing, it had been hard but OK. The few crossings that I did not, things spiralled into survival dramas. I was told similar dolphin tales by seasoned sea-farers and they always spoke about a strong connection between man and these sea mammals. I had not experienced them close, only brief encounters from a distance, as if they just popped up to give assurances.

On the sea for too long, my brain sometimes couldn’t be completely trusted. How else do I explained thinking the sea as a goddess, powerful to do as she likes? That water had drained away my rationality and mystified it, with a blink my eyes, a configuration to read her symbols and signs. Of that moment, as waters around me quietened, I stopped paddling completely. After a few hours out in the sun, residual white salt crystals had covered the black skin of my kayak, shimmering her in light.

As the black fin approached closer, it merged with my kayak.

I waited for more kayaks to paddle in or call in safe. A pod of dolphins appeared and followed for a while, giving a good feel to the last minutes of a crossing...

Reward of a nice beach for lunch at the end of a long crossing!

The Night At A Village, Before A Crossing

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Tue, 29 Nov 2016 00:45:00 +0000

Paddling past beautiful Padar Island on the way to Komodo Village.

A kampung house - weathered wood planks and zinc roof - was mostly free of dust. Its floor, covered by a pvc carpet of printed yellow and green tiles, was swept daily. The floor was seldom washed, so that water did not creep between the pvc carpet and wooden floor. It was easy to keep things off the floor. Except for the table and chairs, others like cap, bags, etc were hanged on nails knocked simply into the wood walls. At sections where a long cross beam held the standing planks, little toys or use bottles stood. These little shelves were found here and there, a collection of lives, that were also free of dust.

Several longer roof beams leaned from the corners towards the middle, where zinc sheets of reddish brown and reflected light completed the roof. When it was day, it radiated hot air inside the house.

When it rained, it defeated the silence.

The kitchen was always near drainage, and in this village, it was the sea. An outstretched hand easily tossed out peels of onion or roots of vegetables. There was seldom leftovers. Used oil was repeated. If there was a sink, the pipe brought the waste of soap and grim onto the beach before it flowed into the sea. Toilets too, were built near drainage, and if not ‘further up’, so that waste could also flow into the sea. Some of these discharges sank and trapped inside the sand. Villagers did not built their lives on soft muddy grounds or a muddy beach; they created mud over time.

Kids being kids!

Every morning after adzan, was the scrapping bamboo brooms. There was little to sweep on the sandy street, some plastic wrappers and the odd blue bottle caps. Most rubbish was now collected. The sea brought in more rubbish than the village’s throwaways; plastic thrash piled its main beach. Children littered into the sea, keeping the streets clean.

Rain washed away whatever spits and filths that sank into the sandy street. Rain washed away some red rust on the roofs. Rain smouldered the little holes dug up by the smallest children and paved the sandy street again. It filled up the wells and quench the heat.

Rain certainly delighted the children, who were the zippiest people in the village. It was too hot under the zinc roofs, anyway. They claimed, like kings, to spaces and lands around the village, especially those out of reach. The ledges, the tree branches, or the sea below the jetty…found ways to touch and add to their conquests. Their instinct was to make something out of what they could touch, and make things theirs. No senseless books that gave false hopes.

Yet hope was something voiced affirmatively by our Host at the homestay.

“Management 2018!”, our Host boomed his intention to be elected to the village council. If Jokowi the furniture trader could become president of Indonesia, our Host hoped to change his destiny.

“Management 2018!”

Looking out from the window of our homestay.

Our Host also hoped more people would come stay at the village. But why would they? The ‘higher management’ had built a deep water pier to welcome giant cruise ships that landed directly at the world-class park. The merry tourists stepped down for half-day tours, and after posing with the dragons, went back to their air-conditioned cruise cabins and buffets. Our Host never saw any of them in the village.

“Our homestay is German-standard, accredited by German!”, our Host proclaimed.

Our Host spoke of a quality check-list that the German used. He was told to add items like a table and correct number of chairs; a mirror on the wall. The touted German standards soon dropped after we moved in. Because there was ‘no hooks to hang underwear’ in our mandi, down went the country pride, wet on the floor. The small bathroom door seemed designed to let in the lower body only. No need for mirror since there wasn’t a lamp inside.

What the German did not accredited was the lives of our homestay families - mothers with children. Their husbands had went out of the village to find work. The mothers made sure the cartoon bedsheets were changed, soft toys taken out, and the kids were ordered to sleep in the kitchen room with their mancik. Like this, rooms were made free for us. Our meals - fresh vegetables from local gardens and fish from the national park - were what they ate. We were taken care of like family.

“Bring more people here.”, the Host asked me.

I must had heard that line so many times in many places. How could we, kayakers from thousands of miles away, also became hope? I offered our Host some kretek and smiled.

In contrast, a kayak crossing couldn’t be attempted with hope.

The Komodo Village at low tide.

Linking two islands with kayaks sometimes felt like crossing dimensions. If age was not an number, we could arrive the other side wiser, than if we had lived through normal time. We could come through there a different person, our precarious pieces shaken to the core that they somehow collapsed in sufficient harmony.

I slept early thinking about the crossing, wrestling my mind between naivety and worry. The thoughts spanned, like the width of the sea between the islands, from the safety of a nice beach to the emptiness of an ocean. I kept getting pissed, then regrets, for somewhere in those thoughts, also an awareness that there were dark parts of tomorrow which we couldn’t control, didn’t know. Sleep that came was like a movie on replay, just with different endings.

Paddling from Gili Lawat towards Komodo Islands in strong currents...but we saw a dugong!

Outside I faintly heard voices and laughter. I heard the crashing of waves underneath the house, spilling onto the sandy street. At the straits visible from my window, the tidal streams built over itself. Everything that stood in its way was swept aside or encircled. The tremendous flowing streams of the Indian Ocean coursed north. Months of wind had whipped up the Indian Ocean to such heights that it emptied readily into the archipelago basin. As quickly as the flow reached their speed, it reversed. Then, the might of the Pacific Ocean pushed against the cold Indian waters, finally gaining enough traction and injecting some warm waters into the southern seas. Even as I slept, I could feel the waters wrapping around the house pillars below and crashing over low kerbs.

Tomorrow then, we cross the straits where two oceans meet.

Sunset on one of the Gilis the night before arrival at Komodo Village.

A home by the flowing river and paddle the sea

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Thu, 07 Jul 2016 08:36:00 +0000

DAVE CHO, expedition kayaker (1969 - 2016)
A home by the flowing river and paddle the sea

Dave on the Xe Bang Fai River (Laos, 2008). Photo by Yonghui

Today, we sent off Dave Cho.

My first paddle with Dave and Soo was to Sibu Islands in Malaysia. For a simple 12km crossing, we arrived at our accommodations on Sibu Island close to midnight! We were again in Laos together that year of 2008, being the first kayak team to explore Xe Bang Fai, one of the largest river caves in the world. Every day when we landed, Dave wandered around assembling a huge pile of wood and "boomed" we would have a fantastic campfire. It was shitty cold in Laos that year so no one complained. Bear Grllys was his first seasons on Discovery Channel, and Dave was hooked!

In the Laos trip we already knew Dave was very health-conscious. Defying the austere packing list for such self-supporting expeditions, he brought bags of 'organic' canned food, nuts, PLUS an entire year worth's of Men's Health magazines. Such magazines were replaced with 500-page thick heavy volumes in later expeditions.

On Day 1 of the Laos expedition, we stopped for lunch during our 8-hour road trip from Vientiane to Khammouane. Since we all had meat meals, he had no hesitation in munching down our table's allocation of fresh salad, PLUS our neighbouring table's unfinished plate of fresh salad!

During EOR1: Batanes in 2010, Dave was part of the Advance Team (AT) on that dramatic day of crossing from Sabtang Island to Batan Island. That was a long story shared many times...

Dave rolling up his K1 on Batan Island (EOR1: Batanes Islands, Philippines, 2010). Photo by Yonghui

The birth of Rach in 2009 did not dampen his adventurous spirit, Rach was another raison d'être for more adventures, and he made every effort for Rach to earn her life experiences early.

During the Samui expedition in 2011, he asked me to customise it in such a way that Rach, at that time 2 years old old, was able to join. He did not mind the extra costs of flying in his Filipino nanny, PLUS hiring a Thai nanny to take care of the Filipino nanny. It was a hard expedition with long technical crossings and we had daily night kayaking and landings. On the shortest day of paddle, he asked Soo to join the paddle since the chances of night landing was low. But the currents were so strong that day they landed last among the group around 10pm in Bo Phut, Samui Island...

The next year in 2012, he took Rach for her first 2D/1N kayak camping trip, revisiting Sibu Islands. Not wanting a repeat of a midnight arrival, Dave thought he should go up to Tanjong Leman on Friday night so that he had time to set up his Feathercraft K1 for Saturday morning launch. When we all arrived on Saturday morning, and after we had set up our Feathercrafts, Dave was still in his chalet instructing Soo how to assemble his K1.

Anyway we did arrive on Pulau Lima (one of the Sibu Islands) early around 5pm, despite a big storm. Then, Soo asked: "huey, so where's my baby girl?"

"I dont know..., they landed an hour ago."

Rach was missing. In true expedition Murphy's tradition, the kayakers landed on the right island with the wrong name, and Rachel landed on the wrong island with the right name.

The committee trying to understand why the x@#$ was taking Dave so long to assemble his K1! (Sibu Islands, Malaysia, 2012) Photo by Moira

Dave in the middle of the raft on Day 1 of the Samui Expedition. (Samui Islands, Thailand, 2011)

At 4 years old, Rach became "the youngest girl" to paddle Endau River and Krabi Islands in 2013. She would not remember much of Endau River as she was sleeping often, even when we carried her to walk around the bigger rapids! In Krabi she was still learning to swim, and Dave would often throw her into the sea a few meters away and cajoled her to crawl towards him. Dave was always encouraging and never reprimanding with Rach, and she is now such a confident swimmer!

2014 was my last sea kayaking trip with Dave, in Raja Ampat (North). And Dave had this to say about my idea of Leave No Trace that time: "I cant imagine we cannot bury our crap....gross!! then everyone crap into plastic bags and we keep that for days and bring that to Gam ah ?? no way man..... we WILL bury our crap. i cannot imagine why we cannot bury.... its a MARINE reserve, not a CRAP reserve.....!"

November 2015 was the last time we paddled together and the last time I saw Dave. We spent 8 days paddling down the Sun Kosi River of Nepal, to raise funds for a earthquake damaged village. As usual he wanted to this charity trip with his family and made sure there was enough safety coverage for Rach. Before the trip, he also texted me, "You know my no gluten policy right? Cannot have bread/nann/pasta etc. You think we can have rice every meal?".

"Of course (ya right...)!"

So when the cooks served up some pasta one day, Rach came to me unhappy: "I cannot eat these. Daddy told me pasta is poisonous..."

"Kenasai (shit u) huey! Can eat lah Rach."

"Rapids? Ok what." Dave getting ready for another day of shooting rapids. (Sun Kosi River, Nepal. 2015)

It was eternally wonderful for them to share memories and moments on the river as a family, camping among gorgeous landscape; and in the morning woken by sunshine and sounds of a flowing river.

Dave always found himself in the outdoors and was active in paddling, climbing, hiking, etc. His whole family often went out on outdoor trips together. He was health conscious and kept himself very fit. He was helpful, humble, funny, and his entire heart was in the outdoors. He was easy to talk to because there was so much in him that was outside.

I had paddled together with David, Soo, and Rach for many years. I had seen Rach grow up, from a non-swimmer to swimmer, a non-kayaker to probably the one of the bravest young girl around...all because she has a damn marvellous dad and mum.

Dave challenging everyone to a handstand on the last day of the Raja Ampat expedition. (Gam Island, Raja Ampat, Indonesia. 2014)

On the day Dave died, I was asked about Dave - what was his job, his age, was he capable, etc. I could not answer any of those questions because I didn't know. We had never talked about work, certificates, or the realities of land, only PADDLING, DREAMS, ADVENTURES - ok and often his 'organic-paleo-rolled eyes health diet'.

Like all good expedition mates, all I know was that we had between us, a plain unspoken trust to look out for each other wherever we are on the waters.

Dave lived life the way he wanted to, always seeking adventures, spending as much time outdoors as he could. He lived on the idea of adventuring as a family and died protecting the family he loved. He was a friend, a fellow kayaker, someone who wanted to build a home by the flowing river and paddle the sea.

Today we sent off Dave Cho. To a White and Blue place. A place where the sky is the sea; there he paddles.

Dave, good speed.

You are dearly missed.

Huey

*photo of Dave Cho by Yonghui

#expeditionkayaker, #davecho, #rip

Further Adventures Of A Feathercraft Aironaut

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Thu, 16 Apr 2015 15:33:00 +0000

Further Adventures on an Aironaut

Part II of The Aironaut Review

The Aironaut on a 12-day expedition to Bohol, Philippines. Photo by Ling.

In Dec 2014, I tried out the Aironaut on a 12-day sea kayaking expedition in the Philippines. The expedition was semi-supported, and in this case we didn't have to carry tents and food. We just had to carry our 12-day gear plus water (together about 40kg). It was the NE Monsoon and there was 15-20km/hr wind blowing on most days, with northerly swells of 1-2meters common, sometimes reaching 3 meters on some sections. It wasn't rainy and was hot. Most of the paddling was circumnavigation of islands and there were a few crossings with distance of 4-10km on some days. Most days averaged 30km of paddling.

The other paddlers on the expedition were on Feathercraft Wispers, XPs, and there were also 4 paddlers on 5-meter long plastic hardshell sea kayaks. So it provided a good performance comparison with the Aironaut thrown into this kayak group.

Capacity

It had a seemingly larger capacity than the same-length Feathercraft Kahuna, since its flexible deck allowed luggage of unwieldy size to be squeezed into the kayak. There were no problems loading more than 18kg of water, and a couple of 30L dry bags on each end. Because it was an inflatable kayak however, the kayak can only be loaded on the water. Once heavy, it was impossible to carry the kayak without bending it out of shape. So loading on the water must be quick and pre-planned, especially in surf conditions. Otherwise, find a calm spot.

Deck space

Without a loaded Aironaut, the deck space was dead - just too flexible to even fix a compass properly. But with a fully stuffed kayak, I could attach a deck bag, affix a compass, and perhaps even a sail set. On this trip I did not attach a portage bag to the stern deck since everything fit inside the kayak. A stern attached portage bag would be necessary on longer expeditions, where interior space was simply not enough.

The Aironaut doing a crossing in cross winds and among whitecaps. Photo by Victor

Effects of 40kg (on the sea)

Being loaded seemingly caused the kayak to track better, and having a "ballast" made the kayak moved with more purpose.

The one negative effect of load was surf landing. In one such surf landing when I took my eyes off the waves, I was tipped over and rolled. Water collected inside the Aironaut together with the 40kg load made it impossible to recover the kayak. The kayak felt like jelly inside the water and it was with considerable jigging that I was able to empty half the water, and then pumped out the rest.

I could imagine some challenge if one capsizes in the middle of a sea, having to manage a loaded jelly kayak. It would not be rollable. And if the sea conditions are rough and you are alone, it would be a very risky situation. A sea sock becomes ever more important for an Aironaut than any other kayaks. It prevents the water from flooding the kayak to such a weight that it becomes dangerous. While I find the sea sock stuffy in tropical conditions (plus it hides all the gear I want access to anytime), I would certainly think hard about using it at the next expedition.

In Bohol, I also realised that there was a need to pressurise the chambers now and then. This could be due to higher temperature differentials, load, etc but it does mean the pressure release valves were doing their work. The K-pump became very useful (even important) both on and off the water, since I could give the kayak a few pumps of air sitting inside my cockpit. An Aironaut that was not 100% inflated also gave less than 100% performance.

Effects of 40kg (on land)

Two words - hard work! The Aironaut cannot be carried loaded, so it must be unloaded after landing before it can be carried safely on shore. I had 40kg of load, which included 15 water bottles, it was hard work bringing so many individual items, to and fro, up to the shore. It would be better if I had the load organised into 3-4 bags to minimise the tiring commuting. The happy ending was I could carry the ultralight empty kayak easily after it was unloaded while the heavy plastic sea kayaks required men-handling.

The Aironaut disappeared behind high waves! Photo by Victor

Performance (with load)

In Bohol Philippines, there were many days with high waves and strong winds. Sometimes the winds and waves were behind us, sometimes in front, and sometimes side, sometimes cross. In all conditions the Aironaut was able to keep up with the Feathercrafts and hardshell kayaks. There was a saying "stability before speed", meaning you would rather have a stable kayak and paddle consistently, than a tippy/fast kayak having to do lots of bracing strokes. The stable Aironaut created a rather brazen attitude on a rough sea.

The Aironaut was such a stable kayak that even waves coming from behind were dismissed. Bracing was hard to do (anyway not really necessary due to the stability) as the two bracing straps gave little support. The surfing was lethargic unless the waves are big (>2 meters). Feathercraft's cockpit (same for Aironaut and folding kayaks) gave excellent hold for the sprayskirt and this kept out the water.

We might think that the lightweight kayak would be toss around by the wind. The Aironaut held its course very well in cross winds, when compared to the folding kayaks and hardshells sea kayaks on the expedition. When directions decided to go haywire, it was easier to correct (directions) when on top of the waves and much easier to manoeuvre a lighter kayak in confusing sea states.

The Aironaut's speed however suffer when there were stretches of flat water. It was then harder to maintain parity with the longer sea kayaks. The footrest, as expected, was not much use when the kayak was stuffed full of gear. It was easier to kick on the gear bag in front of you than the footrest itself.

On long days sitting inside the Aironaut, I wished the bottom seat pad could be more puffy. The back support was excellent but the seat pad was not comfortable for me. It had a strange bridge in the middle that caused me slight abrasion and after a day, I deflated it completely. Instead I tried sitting on my paddle float for a couple of hours to seek relief but quickly abandoned this method on rougher seas. Whenever I needed to relax my feet, the roomy cockpit allowed me to just extend my legs (i am 1.82m tall) out for a nice stretch.

Loaded into an Aironaut: 2 dry bags, 15 bottles of water, and 2 coconuts! Photo by Huey

Survivability

With the excellent pressure release valves, welded seams, and expensive skin, the Aironaut is a very durable sea kayak. There is nothing to be broken. A simple repair kit would take care of most cuts and abrasions on the field. On this expedition, this Aironaut survived rough waves, coral landings, being carried while fully loaded, and multiple days of paddling in hot weather.

Final Thoughts

The Aironaut is a comfortable and dependable sea kayak suitable for most sea kayak expeditions. For paddlers with extensive experience in foldables or hardshell sea kayaks, it takes some time to adjust to the Aironaut. It is a kayak that can do everything, just that these would be done differently from the normal sea kayaks that we are used to. Still it is an inflatable sea kayak, to use the Aironaut safely on an expedition means understanding its limitation.

The Aironaut is simply a different category of sea kayak.

FEATHERCRAFT Aironaut Review

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Mon, 16 Jun 2014 14:11:00 +0000

Feathercraft Aironaut Review

The Feathercraft Aironaut in Papua, Indonesia.

One of the most exciting kayak this year is the Feathercraft Aironaut, an inflatable sit-in sea kayak. While they are many sit-on-top inflatable kayaks, currently only the Incept K-40, Grabner Holiday, and the new Gumotex Seawave can be considered as sea-worthy sit-in inflatable sea kayak.

As a folding kayak owner for over 15 years, portability ranks first. Folding and inflatable kayaks are the only truly portable kayak one could own, and take them anywhere desired.

A sit-in inflatable sea kayak is thus interesting. It protects one from sun and rain, keeps gear better, and gives the kayak just a bit more shape when paddling in the windy conditions. And one that sets up within 6 minutes deserves more than ogling at the specs and personally testing it out on the waters.

Here's what I think.

Ease of Assembly

Aironaut package comes with a double action hand pump, sea sock, double fin skeg, kayak skin, sprayskirt, repair kit, paddle float (not shown), and a travel dry bag backpack (not shown).

In repeated attempts, the Aironaut pumps up in less than 6 minutes. The double-action hand pump that comes with the kayak, though small, pressurises the kayak easily. I have used the K-pump (without adapter) and the inflation time is about the same. The fast inflation time is due to the Aironaut's small chambers. It is the fastest inflatable kayak I have ever inflated and set up. For its length, this surprises me.

Capacity

At 136kg payload, there is capacity to load 1 week+ of gear into the Aironaut even if one weighs 90+kg. The narrow air chambers make space for 20L bags to be easily inserted towards the stern and bow of the kayak. While we normally strap another bag at the stern deck on longer (10 days+) trips, the deck of the Aironaut is just a piece of fabric and not rigid to take load. A fully stuffed stern is necessary to provide the rigidity for the stern deck to hold a strapped bag. It is easier to load bags into the Aironaut compared to folding or rigid kayaks, the flexible deck fabric means I could peel and expand the openings to insert unevenly packed bags.

PRV (Pressure Relief Valves)

Aironaut's PRV (pressure relief valve).

On a hot tropical island where I live, the best performance feature is the pressure relief valve on all 3 chambers. One could inflate the kayak to its maximum pressure and not worry about leaving the kayak out in the sun during breaks or meals. When air expands due to the hot sun, the excess pressure inside the chambers simply purges from the relief valves instead of building up in the chambers and bursting the kayak. In long overseas expeditions, such features are life saving.

Seats

The inflatable seats (backrest and seat) however, do not have the pressure relief valves. They are black and expand rapidly in hot sun, so it is a must to check the seats and manually release excess pressure. I recommend inflating the seats to no more than 75%, as pressure builds up very fast.

The seat and backrest are adjustable (for stiffness) and they are comfortable. The seat straps directly on the floor of the kayak while the U-shape backrest can be adjusted for a snug or relax fit around the waist. It is all very comfortable much like sitting on an inflated pillow, but I just wonder if they could had made it a different colour other than black!

Footrest

The Aironaut's footrest.

The footrest is a simple horizontal adjustable bar. It works. I can see paddlers discarding this item or customising a more robust kickable footrest. The footrest bar can be a nuisance when bow loading the bags into the kayak. On longer trips with the kayak loaded with gear, I would prefer to kick my feet on the bags than using the footrest.

Sea Sock

The Aironaut comes with a sea sock, which is a long waterproof bag that goes over the cockpit coaming and extends into the kayak. Its purpose is keep the interior of the kayak free of water and sand. It is also a useful safety gear upon capsize, to contain water inside this 'bag' instead of the entire kayak. One, there is less water to remove from the kayak. Secondly one just need to withdraw the sea sock to drain the water, and climb back in.

I have never use a sea sock on my Feathercraft as I like my interior to be roomy. A bilge pump will still a very useful safety gear to bring along to pump out water from the kayak.

Sprayskirt

A sit-in kayak with a sprayskirt makes it a seaworthy craft for rainy days and paddling with waves. Sealed correctly, the Aironaut offers a dry ride and give lots of confidence in choppy waters.

Paddle Float

Aironaut's orange paddle float is kept under a pocket on the stern deck.

The Aironaut requires a learning curve for those unfamiliar with sit-in kayaks. It sits higher on the water and is thus more tippy than a folding kayak or even a plastic one. Feathercraft provides a paddle float as a standard aid to re-enter the cockpit from the water. When deploy with a paddle, it acts like an outrigger stabilizer to climb back into the cockpit upon capsize. Beginners will find the paddle float very useful.

Skeg

A double-fin skeg...in terms of performance I am still figuring why a double fin other than it holds in place much better with no chance of dislodge during paddling.

Overall Impression

Surfing the Aironaut!

Is the Aironaut a fast kayak? The Aironaut tracks well due to its double-fin skeg, turns easily and paddles fast. It is surprisingly tippy for an inflatable kayak. It has a good secondary stability, so while the kayak tip side to side, it is hard to capsize.

The 4.5m Aironaut is much faster than the Gumotex Solar (4.1m) and comparable to the longer Feathercraft Java (4.75m). Being a sit-in kayak, it has many advantages over the Java, as written above. The key difference is the pressure release valves...a high-performance inflatable kayak must have these valves.

The Aironaut is ideal as a weekend kayak. The ultralight portability, fast set-up time, ease of maintenance, speed, and capacity gives a city apartment dweller like myself unprecedented ease of access to surrounding waters. Even without a car, it is easy to carry 9kg on public transport to the desired beaches.

Paddlers will also appreciate the ultralight weight when carrying the kayak from the set up on the beach to the waters. Those planning an overnight trip will be please by the ample room within the kayak for gear and cookery.

I have yet the opportunity to review the Aironaut on long unsupported expeditions. I think stretching the Aironaut for a week unsupported is within its operating design. On longer unsupported expeditions, the extras I look for would be the survivability of the kayak, ease of field-repair, capacity, speed in various water conditions, and options for customisations (whether sail or electronics). Knowing how the kayak performs and its operating limits make for safer expeditions.

Then again, the Aironaut is not designed for extreme expeditions (we have a bad habit of pushing the limits of our gear!). It is conceived as a dream kayak, that one you think about amidst the routine of work and life, the 'sometimes I just wish to get out somewhere for a paddle' vessel...the Aironaut makes going that somewhere spontaneous.

Lining up the Aironaut with the Seawave.

Unexpected Feathercraft Aironaut

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Mon, 14 Apr 2014 13:12:00 +0000

Received a surprise package from Feathercraft today and it is the prototype Aironaut! From what we know, the Aironaut is an ultralight sea kayak (9kg) and easy to deploy (6 minutes inflation). But...here are some unexpected surprises about the Aironaut:

# It comes with a sprayskirt, sea sock, cockpit rim inserts, tracking fin, repair kit, & pump.
# It takes less than 5 minutes to inflate as the chambers are quite small.
# All 3 chambers have a pressure release valve, eliminating the No.1 concern of using inflatable in our hot weather.
# It comes with an strange orange bag at its stern...guess what?
# The whole package comes in a nicely designed backpack dry bag.
# It is ultralight !

The whole package looks very attractive, but how would it performs as a sea kayak? Will find out later this week during the sea trial !

It comes with a sprayskirt, sea sock, cockpit rim inserts, tracking fin, repair kit, & pump.

All chambers come with safety pressure release valve

Less than 5 mins inflation!

Ultralight Inflatable Sea Kayak !

The Orange Paddle Float

The Feathercraft Aironaut

Inflatable Seat and Backrest

The pioneer kayaker of Sumatra

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 23:05:00 +0000

Abdul Halim (1963 - 2013)

Halim brewing coffee inside a 5-star hotel room!

Halim (Georg Jackstadt), was a german geographer living for 19 years in Sumatra, Indonesia. A self-taught kayaker, he got a team of Indonesians together to do whitewater rafting ("we thought there was business"), later whitewater kayaking ("when we realised it wasn't business - so we could still get to the rivers but had no customers to fill rafts").

He started in 1995 at Asahan river - probably the wildest whitewater in S.E asia. In the following years he built up a whitewater center, did first descents of many Sumatran rivers and competed at national and international events. One highlight was year 2000 when he went to France and was one of the 'wildboys' who became the first Indonesian ever at the Whitewater Racing World Championship in K1 ( he didn't become worldchampion... ).

Disaster hit in 2003 when a flashflood wiped out the village of Bukit lawang and his WWcenter. 150 people died. Tourism collapsed after that. The tsunami in 2004 made things worse. As if that wasn't enough, there are now plans for a hydropower scheme that would destroy most of the whitewater at Asahan river.

He never gave up pursuing paddling - and started exploring Lake Toba, the world's biggest crater lake. Coming from whitewater, he had no idea that touring kayaking could be so much fun. Nobody had ever done paddling trips on Lake Toba and he had absolutely no idea how many kilometres a touring kayak can cover per day or whatever, when he pushed his brand new kayak into the water. Since then, he had seen more shores on the lake than anyone else, and visited some villages not yet connected by roads. "You just feel like you're inside Lord of the Rings when you paddle in that scenery".

He later explored and paddled more of Sumatra's amazing landscape, including Pulau Banyak, Mentawais, Padang's coast, etc. He loved the waters and never tired of championing the rivers and waters of Sumatra. He was the founder and main mover of "Save the Asahan River". All international paddlers who wanted to paddle Sumatra seek him out. And Halim was always generous to share his knowledge and willing to help with logistics.

Halim was a friend, a colleague, a fellow kayaker, a fellow guide....we shared our love of Pink Floyd as much as the waters. We had an evil scheme going that anyone we took to paddle in Lake Toba must watch the Pink Floyd concert. In his youth, he looked a lot like David Gilmour, and while David went on earning his millions playing guitar, Halim touched the hearts of whoever paddled with him. He was a genuine person who loved life and kayaking. A true and kind soul who always had a pat and rub for animals and little creatures that wandered into his path. His gentle enunciated accent, funny anecdotes, and wacky jokes brought much silly laughters. He was never angry, never harsh.

Halim, no amount of tears shed today will bring you back even for a moment just to say goodbye. You had led ahead this time. I wish you good winds and good currents for the paddle ahead.

See you on the other side of the waters again.

Halim (right) near the summit of Gunung Sibayak. As a geographer, he also loved his volcanoes.

One of the last photos of Halim taken on 16 March, 2013 on the Wampu River, Sumatra. He was testing his "gumotex experimental". A modified Sunny. "We did sme mistakes, though, the manhole is so small - I can't wear a PFD in it...and no foot brace. Also takes about 20 minutes to tie the skirt on the kayak. So we leave it in inflated condition. I guess it needs some more experience n modifications till you can use it on Laos river. Two kayak air bags in front and back maybe wiser....but then you can't take much gear."

Gam. Home. (15/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 13:14:00 +0000

All of nature's creations from E26 on the way to Gam island. | Photo: Huey, Tiak, Moira

Life was simple. We woke up in the morning and walked a distance to find a cozy place to dig a hole. The air was still cool and many birds were rousing at the same time. We then walked back to the tents, took our canteen, and sat by the stove. Kathy would had the stove on. The faint scent of coffee twirled in with the last of yesterday night’s embers. We watched the last part of sunrise while the birds, having their feathers dried by the sun, took flight. Light layered the water, which shimmered when the breeze rose. There was no time and this was our clock.

We could paddle to more deserted islands today, or don our snorkel masks and dived into a mysterious underwater world. We could sit there listening to the birds and watched them. We could poach for coconuts or look for shells along the beach. We could lie on the sand and talk about food. Our wants determined by doing what made us happy. What else do we need?

A rare dinner-size fiddler crab crawled into camp. We had gas to boil it with coconut. Raja Ampat had been exploited for a long time. It was a favorite place for vessels of shark finners. Small prahu launched daily on its coasts blasted the seas for fish. Fleets were sent to collect its vast riches as trade for live collections and seafood. And at this remote island of E26 known to few, did it make a difference to take a crab?

Hunger wasn’t lacking. I lacked a measure of desperateness to kill it. The crab was let go.

The next morning, we paddled to the island of Gam. It was the last island we visited on the expedition, and the most populated. Everyone who visited Raja Ampat would visit Gam due to its incredible ‘blue water mangroves’. The great naturalist Alfred Russell Wallace stayed on Gam. It seemed to Tiak that the ancient corals built Gam, then the mangroves that came after spread over corals, and new corals grew under mangrove, and...now, an island of inter-harmony and indescribable beauty. Inside its bluewater mangroves, strong currents swept the corals underneath, and on the surface, carried our kayaks over a fantastic journey of colors, patterns, and life. Such a place was surely impossible to re-create.

As its fame grew, Gam developed. It now supports 5 villages and had the most number of home-stays built for tourists operated by the local villagers. More resources were being organized to make vacations comfortable for the increasing demands of tourists. More diesel-burning generators, more timber for huts, more toilets, more fishing to create a respectable menu...tourism had made some locals and expats here prosperous.

“Raja Ampat should be kept as it is. No more developments.”, Halim repeatedly tried to convince me.

Like water, the flow of money was unstoppable and touched everyone. But water had a cycle, an ebb and flow. Will Raja Ampat find that balance?

Eventually we had to leave this home. We were mildly excited we no longer had to wear these sun protective attire, unwashed for the past 12 days. We were looking forward to seeing friends, a fresh water bath, fresh food, and being dry.

We ended the expedition on 20 December on the island of Gam. At 1523hours, Johnny released the empty whisky bottle that contained an expedition badge.

Whoever picks it up, knock yourself out !

The expedition bottle.

EOR2: Raja Ampat Islands
Dec 2012

~ The end.

Bloody Comforts. Part 3 (14/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 01:21:00 +0000

Inside the wonderful, mazy, and beautiful Kabui Bay.

The Mezzanie section of the camp promptly poked out their heads, aimed their headlights at the kayak, and watched.

“Chaannn!! Its floating away fast!”, I called out again.

“Let it go lahhh! Wa lau ehhh, I am already changed and ready to sleep!”

“Channnn!!”

“Why tell me? Next time don’t tell me lah. KNN, KNS,...wa lau...”

We kept our lights on the kayak adrift, then towards Chan’s tent. No one moved.

“Wah Lau eh...”, came another groan.

The next morning, we woke up to a cacophony of bird speak. One birding website listed more than 40 species of birds easily spotted on Waigeo. These included the very talkative ones like cockatoos, lory, parrots, lorikeets, and hornbills. A slight mist had settled. It was cool last night, unlike camping on the beaches where our tents were stuffy. The fernhill campsite turned out to be very comfortable, despite no reservations made.

We were camping between the islands of Gam and Waigeo. It was at the entrance of a 30 meters wide channel popularly called by divers as The Passage. Tropical jungles grew on limestone rocks and cliffs, which lined both banks. The currents in the channel changed with the tides, with a flow through like river. We were surprised by the constant amount of traffic in the morning, more than what we had seen in the past 10 days. There were dive boats, passengers’ boats, and boats from the villages. Their wakes rocked the kayaks and muddied the waters at the earthen banks.

All ears were on Chan’s words this morning. He proclaimed that his devious plan of self-evacuation failed. He also claimed the night swim to get his kayak made him sleep better.

“You should have release Huey’s kayak. Then we can end here and all bloody hell get a free ride back!”, multiple sources said.

We ended the day exiting Kabui Bay instead of exploring further into it. The long and short of this decision was not about the distance. We were too long on the water and short on body maintenance. Three hundred islands of Kabui bay beckoned in front of us, packed so densely together these islands created multiple channels and waterways for some really great paddling. But from what we saw, these islets were lumps of limestone rocks without any beaches. We were prepared for sleeping among trees in hammocks. We had the proper equipment. Yet when it comes to putting forth such an idea for consensus, it was hardly enticing.

“Would be great to take one island each, and hang our hammocks above the water.”

“I will go with the flow...”

“We know there is beach at E26. We need a good night’s rest. No more night paddling!”

I knew this was the end of our expedition. There was still 2 more days, just 15km, before we reached Gam, our end point. But when ever was such conventional sequence of time and space applied during expeditions? We ended it when we ended it. With all due respect to plans and linearity, our time flows with the winds and tides.

Just after lunch, we made the long crossing of Kabui Bay to E26.

Sea kayak touring, in its purest form, was a self-supporting endeavor to a place unknown. Our kayaks loaded with enough food, water, and shelter in its holds. On deck, a map and compass aid to navigate to these remote islands. Seeing these places for the first time on a kayak, on our own power, was an amazing experience. Paddling at the edge of our region, now from inside it looking out to our world, threading together fine curve of knows and unknowns, with dramas of movement...was an attempt for a brief glimpse at harmony.

Tomorrow, we look for happy endings. Tonight, sleep with no morning calls!

Bloody Comforts, Part 2 (13/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Wed, 13 Mar 2013 09:58:00 +0000

The fernhill campsite at the entrance of The Passage. Waigeo-Gam channel. | Photo: Moira

Tropical camping in tents was stuffy, especially in my single layer tent which was waterproof but trapped heat. For the past few nights it took some minutes of sweating, even in nakedness, before the body cooled. Last night was no different. But sleeping in sweat was no longer a bother. Sand, a small nuisance before, was no longer unwelcome guests in tents, but like hair and skin, felt a part of the body now.

The heat continued this morning, and the sunshine was very hot. Movements were lethargic. The rashes had started getting to us. It was difficult getting up in the morning without being reminded that there were the itchy parts and sore areas. The wet unwashed lycra scrapped on the sores when we put them on again. I urged to dig my fingers at the rashes.

“Let’s find a nice campsite today for some body maintenance”, Chan told me.

Why was the skin weak only now, I wondered.

I was reminded that our water supply was low. We had discovered a freshwater well behind the campsite, and we filled up 50 liters of water with our empty bottles. Pete and Rosie purified them diligently, mixing chlorine dioxide to kill the viruses and protozoa that might be in the well waters. Unknown to us, the well water was contaminated with hundreds of mosquito larvae, among other small moving stuff. The bucket that we dropped into the well brought up hundreds of these, and they filled our drinking bottles. The powerful chlorine dioxide was not toxic to these little organisms, as we discovered later.

All done, we crossed to Pef Islands. It was a calm day. The water was smooth and waxy. Any glitter from the sun was reflected in lines that crisscrossed the flat grey sea. We paddled as a group for a long time, alternating closer to talk and drifted away to be lost in our own songs. The focus was not on the island we were aiming for. It was not the beautiful scenery in front. It was not only the little waves parted by the bow of the kayak, or the sound of the paddle as it sliced through the water. It was something inside that, even when everything one could desired were present, we sometimes forget where beautiful also exists. With no wind and currents, it was easy for our thoughts to drift...following a flow deep into my heart and memories...I miss you.

At Pef. A small island among the many islands of Pef. A limestone rock with hardy plants and cornices. More of these rocky islets dropped around a lagoon. The deep blue water and the shallow green. The corals and the living under the shallow green. Looked up and you see the roots of the mangrove forests, planting into the reefs. Some shallow green are endless carpet of white sand. The soft corals swayed.

“Chan, there are things swimming inside your water bottle.”, I held up the bottle for a closer inspection. We had stopped for lunch at Tanjong Ombrab.

The group of twitching larvae made the lunch packets even more revolting. We discovered that our new supply of water were contaminated with larvae. But that seemed not of anyone’s health concerns.

“I will never eat glutinous rice for the rest of my life.”

“The last quarter..oug...it is worse than running a marathon...”

“Where did you get this stuff from?!”

“No matter what they wrote outside, japanese or nyonya, they all taste the same!”

And it went on...

“No beach...”, Chan’s voice came over the radio.

“So? Village or wilderness?”, I replied.

Our local intel of promised land did not rise to the occasion. Kabui village was an hour paddle away. Staying in villages meant a lack of privacy, but access to food, water, and shelter. Searching further meant successive night paddling and sleeping on rocks or trees. We headed for the village.

“I saw a dirt beach. I will go check it out.”, I sprinted away to some dismay from the group.

On closer inspection, there were two choices. Option one was a logged slope covered with grass, a small flat burnt patch, and a large turtle shell on a tree. Option two was a fern-infested slope with felled logs, with trees still standing.

“Not perfect but it will do.”, Pete said after a short walking survey of option two.

There were little privacy and comfort. It was damp forest floor underneath the tall ferns. Some clearings of logs and vegetation were needed to make the ground flat. Chan’s pick of property was beside a pile of saw dust, home also to hundreds of crawling wood boring black beetles. Eventually everyone made do, and the camp clustered in two places at ‘first floor’ and ‘mezzanine’ level. A couple of hammocks were needed due to lack of space. As long as there was no rain, it might be comfortable.

Soon, a Papuan speedboat stopped by to watch us complete our camp set up. They were very curious to see us. They were out collecting firewood. The old growth wood on their boat were chopped sections from an extremely large tree. We were more awed by the topless helmsman, who had such ripping muscles we wondered if we should diet exclusively on indo-mie.

“Dari mana?”, I asked, still fixing my eyes at his large ripples.

“Desa Kabui. Tak jauh.”, the ripped man answered.

“Ada warung, ada nasi? Bisa tidur?”

“Ada. Bisa.”, he pronounced.

Sharing a large Jack fish gifted
to us by the Kabui Villagers.
| Photo: Moira

They were later joined by another group of villagers out harpooning for fishes. Both groups stayed for a while watching us silently. They could see we were ribbed in a different way. Their communal tradition were strong. Before they left, the fish hunters gifted us a large, freshly harpooned jack fish, which we later grilled over the fire. The jack fish was oily, juicy, and absolutely delicious.

Yet it was a short-lived alleviation of famine. How we craved for something more.

“Are we given enough calories?”, Tiak wondered aloud.

“Dinner’s done...?”, came another.

Very quickly, everyone went back to their tents.

The ‘mezzanine’ cluster had the best view of the two clusters - top of a little cliff overlooking both the sky and sea. It was getting chilly at the foothills of Waigeo’s mountain ranges, so I sat up inside my hammock to put on the sweater. In front I saw a peaceful scene of a flat sea flickering with moon flakes, and a floating kayak casted by the moonlight. It was floating out from our little inlet into the fast-flowing passage.

“Chan! Channnnnnnn!! Your kayak is floating away!”

Bloody Comforts, Part 1 (12/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Tue, 12 Mar 2013 08:54:00 +0000

Oxeye scads bought from Indonesian fishermen.

Light was withdrawing faster than we could paddle. A bowl of darkness formed.

I liked paddling in darkness, always searching for a night where there was absolute darkness. When there was none, like tonight, I shut my eyes. The darkness compelled me to focus more inside myself and less on the outside. I had seen what’s on the outside - lights. There was moon light, lights from the shore, and lights from the boats. If I opened my eyes, every of these little lights distracted attention, whether for a moment, and if longer, a puzzle of who were the ones who set out the lights. I wanted to see and feel what was inside.

I was glad we turned away from E14 Gof Kechil, our original night stop. Even the waves were turning us away from Gof Kecil, towards the deserted island of Peniki, an island 5km further east. There were too many lights at Gof Kechil. We were still half an hour to Peniki when the water extinguished the sun behind us. I was in front of the team, failing in my mission to scout a campsite before last light. I turned to see that the team had already put out their lights, coming in strong with the rolling waves. I petulantly ignored Chan’s radio to mark my location with a light. By this time, my eyes had been closed so long that I was at peace, matching my heartbeat with the the flow of waves and the swing of my paddle.

When I opened my eyes again, my kayak was off course, yet still near to the island of Peniki. With whatever quarter of moon light that was shinning, I could see the sandy bottom of a large lagoon. I took out my search torch, paddling to the different small islets to look for a beach. The only possible place to rest was a couple of basic platforms built at the edge of vegetation. They looked like fishermen’s shelters. Perhaps the yellow lights floating out at sea were the owners of these basic structures? Without thinking too much, I paddled out again towards the yellow lights to ask for their permission to displace them at the shelters tonight.

“Pak! Pak!”

No one replied and the lights did not moved.

“Pak!”

“Sini ada pantai bloeh tidur.” No time for grammar.

“Pulau situ ada!”, they pointed to where I came from.

“Bisa camp, tidur, masak?”

“Bisa!”

I have gotten the permission I needed.

“Ikan? Besar?”, my mind was already imagining the aroma of fish smoked over the fire.

“Ada ikan.”

“Beli ikan boleh? Berapa?”

They waved me over and overturned their cage of fishes into my kayak.

“Dua puluh ratus. Roko, roko.”, an old one said.

The oxeye scads were flopping inside the cockpit. Their desperate twitch momentarily transporting me back to my childhood, my first kill of animals as food. It was so natural and easy then, unlike the sense of unease now to have blood on me. The will to live was strong, and the scads kept on their powerful twitch right till the end.

The team had arrived at the same time when I got back to the island from the fishermen’s boat. I was quietly glad the campsite seemed pleasant, and the basic structures should offer small comforts after the night paddling. Most would like to change quickly to dry clothes. Changing out, I began to notice new sores and cuts. Peeling off the foul clothes was painfully slow. I comforted myself that these were due to our ever present conditions rather than neglect. It took effort to clean and maintain one’s body. Any attempts at treatment now seemed futile.

We started a comforting fire and prepared for dinner. While some went collecting firewood, I was looking for small branches that we could use to stand the fishes to cook near the fire. Moira and Tiak were in knee deep waters gutting the oxeye scads.

“Shark!”, they suddenly shouted.

The bloody gills and innards of the oxeye scads had attracted a baby black tip to check us out. A baby shark looked like a shark, we can see it, but the babies of mosquitoes did not look anything like one. But somehow come tomorrow, they also intruded into our food chain...

The Two Villages, Part 2 (11/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Wed, 27 Feb 2013 15:50:00 +0000

A nap after lunch before leaving the village of Mios Mengkara. | Photo by Moira

Seen from the air, the grey-whitish village of Mios Mengkara stood out among the green coconut plantation, which was ringed by white sand, and then enclosed by a large spectacular lagoon of teal waters and dark corals. A long jetty constructed from the timber of ironwood trees cuts into the lagoon. A row of houses faced the jetty, behind a concrete road, then the school and church. Grass separated the houses, stilts driven into the sand between them created a shared area for hanging clothes and salting fishes. Flowering shrubs lined the paved road and in front of houses. A working well was sank into the beach. In late morning, we approached this island village and asked for permission to enter.

The breadfruit or sukun tree had originated from the highlands of Papua New Guinea. In Mios Mengkara village, the sukun trees were planted a generation before and were now giants. Their huge leaves shaded much of spaces besides the concrete road, where mats were laid down and villagers gathered. The mats were made at a wooden house opposite the biggest sukun tree, by Agus and his wife. Using spent batteries and coral rocks as weights for lines of hanging synthetic ropes, they skillfully weaved strips of nipa palms together by alternating the lines. They could make 2-3 mats a day, more than what the village needed.

“Tak sini, pulau besar, sini ada kelapa sahaja”, Agus replied when asked where the nipah was from. The palms were from Batang Pele, a larger island opposite our campsite last night.

The village also tended to a coconut plantation, which covered most of this small island. They dried halved coconuts under the sun, and the creamy flesh was pressed to extract the valuable oil. The fishermen built their own prahu, the wooden outrigger canoes. The most beautiful boats were made from the sukun timber, but now any wood would do. Still, they caulked the seams between the timbers only with latex from their sukun trees, applying a knowledge passed down. The seal was not always perfect and lasting but it worked. The fishermen ‘caught anything’, and salted their extra fishes under the sun.

For money, the villagers of Mios Mengkara regularly sold these excess village’s produce to Sorong.

In Selpele’s only school, its teacher had went AWOL for two months - and counting. Mios Mengkaran also had only one school, for the numerous children of its 300 villagers. The village children crowded Ling, and excitedly led her to their school house. Being a teacher, she was impressed with the rectangular concrete house. Her job application here would not be approved, for it had already one dedicated guru, teaching subjects in Bahasa and Papuan. They also showed her a new church being built, and the musical influence of their religion was clear.

“malam ini ada acara...”, she bent forward and clapped her hands.

“golek ke lempeng gadi undangan...”, the children looked at Ling and sang back.

Yesterday in Selpele, she had asked the children to teach her their songs. She repeated the memorized verses here, swelling moist eyes and drawing laughter from the children and adults alike.

Our kayaks rested 4 hours in the sun while we visited Mios Mengkara. The lunch was as good as the wait, even though it was simple. While they could sell us fresh coconuts, they had no extra fresh food. Once again we went to the only warung. The Sulawesi shopkeeper had canned sardines and rice imported from Surabaya. It was the “freshest” food we could asked for. We were however, far from fresh and smelled closer to the canned sardines. Our clothes had stiffen hard. The sun had squeezed out impurities of sweat and salt that left a mess of white substance. A few doused themselves with the refreshing water from the well. When Chan tried, with the whole village watching, he dropped the bucket followed with the line...

After the lunch, the villagers cleared the mats so that we could take a nap before leaving. Hot cups of coffee was ordered. There were very few flies as most rubbish, we were told, were collected and sent for disposal at Sorong. Used to an urban life as a series of tasks and activities, an afternoon was a small escape, maybe even a subversive act for some. When the sun was at the hottest and light breeze blew, it was the most natural thing to do nothing. Laboring can wait while our bodies pulsed with the rhythm of the day.

It took a village to raise a child, as the saying went. Allowed to roam, the youngest were watched over by the nearest oldest, who showed them how to run the land and swim the sea. They learned early in life that they were not children of two individuals, but a child of the village. When chased by shadows, many arms reached out to hold them. If they grew up as a fisherman, they went out to sea in peace, knowing their children were always cared for. Older, they were always filled with a place and attachment in their hearts that the village had given them. The kind of freedom the village gave was pure and simple.

We left Mios Mengkara after 2pm.

It was a beautiful village.

freedom | Photo by Moira

The Two Villages, Part 1 (10/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Tue, 26 Feb 2013 15:54:00 +0000

Paddlers getting ready to leave the village of Sel Pele at the entrance of the fjord-like Alyui Bay. | Photo by Moira

Rudolph the red nose reindeer galloped into our ears from the massive sound systems at 6am. A few houses, with outward facing speakers, were blasting music till late last night, and it started early again this morning. We had discussed social theories of massive speakers. One theory was that noise drove away spirits of the dark, another proposed loud music as the village alarm clock. It was a good thing we pre-ordered our Indo-mie breakfast at 7am. Our breakfast, however arrived late at 8.30am. Breakfast were served from the counter of Horas Jaya Wurung. The two shop keepers were both from Sulawesi, monopolizing everything from kreteks, petrol, snacks, and daily necessities. Some papuan youths were sitting outside at the store’s benches, not chatting, almost doing nothing. I sat among them while waiting for the team to get ready.

Ling had one more 60L bag for her kayak. She turned around to retrieve it but the bag was embraced in the arms of two siblings, who had taught her Papuan songs yesterday. Their steps were heavy as they tried to walk. The bag completely covered their small bodies, revealing only their thin legs and angelic faces.

“Terima Kasih!”, it was to her not just an expression of gratitude for that thoughtful gesture, but for the beautiful memories.

In her heart, she wanted to remember her little friends forever. They reminded her that happiness could be simple. An open heart and mind was what it took. They had sculpted a special place in her heart and planted that seed of happiness within… as these thoughts flowed past, a stream trickled down the ridge of her cheek.

“稚嫩的童声, 清脆嘹亮, 唤醒了大地, 也敲醒沉睡的心灵

随着海风拂掠, 将快乐幸福的幼苗永植心田”~ Ling

Leaving Selpele, we paddled to the Australian owned pearl farm to find something to eat. It would be something cooked, warm, with vegetables, and hopefully some fresh fruits. There were whispered rumors spreading among the team of a restaurant with real tables and chairs serving fresh oysters. Some wicked rumors also talked about a full serviced Australian seafood restaurant serving all types of seafood - outback style. When we finally reached the pearl farm, we were quietly confident of some Australian hospitality. We were hungry.

“We can offer some food. Can you wait till the boss is free. He is in a meeting and we need to ask him. About an hour.”, we were told.

Sure!

“Sorry sir, we can only offer plain white rice. But you must cook yourself.”

Sure!

“Sorry sir, we can’t offer any food but you can buy frozen oyster meat for US$40/kg.

Sure!

The oyster meat we had bought was from Pinctada Maxima, pearl oysters as they were scientifically know. The pearl farm seeded these oysters in Bali, before transferring them to Alyui Bay for maturing. It took 2 years to cultivate the pearls, and the oyster meat was the by-product. The meat was large, a quarter size of a human palm, and white like chicken. We threw the whole kilogram of meat into our instant miso soup and waited.

The smell and sight of heated food was driving me into a hallucinated feast. I could almost taste the succulent oysters with all the extra salt and whatever artificial flavors the Japanese could conjured into their soup.

“Who’s the first the try?”, Kat asked.

“Meeeeee!!!!!!!!!”

The pearl oyster meat can be described as something of a cross between rubberized abalone and tough scallop. Best to chew patiently for 10 minutes before swallowing.

The oyster farm near Selpele required workers. Selpele had no gardens and no workshops. Travellers don’t pass through the village. The earlier generation had boats and live off the richness of sea, the more hardworking ones trapping lobsters or baiting live fishes for sale in the city of Sorong. The youths didn’t have boats. They offered themselves to the foreign-owned nickel mine at Pulau Kawe or the pearl farm at nearby Alyui Bay, where they could earn Rp 500K a month. It was a whole new way of living. Unlike their hunter-gatherer elders, the extra money they earned buy their want to need.

The brightest ones maybe left for more exciting places. And those who didn’t were lulled by a carefree life and reduced responsibilities. They stayed to live in a world that changes slowly, where warm memories and friendships were kept under trees and on the white sand. Outside their doors, as the sea breeze blew, this was where they could stand on the same feelings of affection for the soil underneath, and felt the world was here. But surely, a village life in Selpele was slowly disappearing.

I wondered where I would be if I had stayed where my life was the most carefree. Such a wonder existed now more as a memory rather than a place where I could go to. Paddling was a way of keeping such memories alive. Looking at the sky at edge of our region, and edging a hope that tomorrow I might paddle to a place where all these memories could be kept forever...

The Equator Crossing, Part 5 (9/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Wed, 06 Feb 2013 15:59:00 +0000

Conversing with Chan first thing in the morning before leaving for the search. Go to E9, the village of Selpele. We might need their help tonight. | Photo by Moira

The third time I crossed the Bhas Crazies, the water was calm. The tide was complete. Still it took me a long time to pass Johnny’s Beach. Inside the Crazies, a spitboat zoomed past me, heading north. Since my mission was now to get a recovery boat organized quickly at Selpepe, we simply exchanged a wave.

After passing Johnny’s Beach, I stopped briefly to reward myself with a nut bar. It was hot and progress was very slow. I sang to keep going. Mid-way to Selpele, I heard the sound of motor behind me. They slowed alongside me and cut the engine.

“Apa Khabar!”, I wearily greeted.

“Baik! Pergi mana?”

“Dayung pergi Selpele...pergi mana?”

“S E L P E L E.”, he seemed to mouth the word out in slow motion and bright lights.

I could not believe my dolphin luck. The most useful bahasa word in such situation came out from me: “Tarik boleh?”. The water was calm and it would not be a problem to pull the kayak along.

“Bisa, bisa.”

Once on the boat, I I found out that they just returned from the mining station on Pulau Kawe. I was reminded then that it was the same boat that I had exchanged greetings with a couple of hours before. Then, they told me something totally unexpected.

“Ada dua orang sana. Sama itu.”, Jordi pointed to my kayak

“APA?! Dua orang dayung? Di mana?!!

Jordi pointed north.

“Utara P. Kawe?”, I asked.

“Ya. Satu orang cina. Satu orang India, bicara bahasa boleh.”

“Sampan merah?”, I was barely containing my relief.

“Ya.”

“Saya kasih rupiah, sekarang pergi sana. Dua orang kawan saya.”, these were the confirmation I needed. And their boat was certainly big enough for 3 kayaks and all our gear.

“Tak cukop. Balik Selpele ada.”, Jordi shook his fuel container.

At night in Selpele, we occupied the 2 warungs and cleaned out the indo-mie. Somehow junk food always tasted better as compensation food. Not that we had any other choices.

Johnny and Bhas were not with us to enjoy the MSG-loaded dinner. The passing boat they flagged down this morning was from the mining company on Palau Kawe. They were brought to the mining station about 4km south of Safety beach and 10km north of Bhas Crazies. There were given shelter and food, and a notice that a thrice weekly boat was leaving the same day to Sorong.

Upon reaching Selpele, I had quickly bought a new drum of fuel for Jordi’s boat, and we headed straight back to Pulau Kawe. This time, Bhas Crazies was beginning to boil as the tide was changing. Like Magostan this morning, Jordi aimed his fast boat straight at the exposed rocks and only to turn at the last minute. And Jordi also slowed his boat at the same bay where Magostan's petrol ran out this morning. The mining station was inside the bay.

When I finally arrived, Johnny and Bhas were waiting at the office for the generator to come on, so that they could contact us. Their kayaks were already strapped onto the Sorong-bound boat. They related their idea to recuperate a few days from their harrowing experience, and join up with us later. Although Bhas told me later I looked like “a man possessed with anger”, I was really exhausted with cold and hunger to be in a mood for any meaningful consultations. I just wanted a straight “Yes” or “No” answer whether they were following the recovery boat back with me to E9. I supposed they said “No”, and advised them to go to E32 (Gam), find Paulus, and he would set them up somewhere comfortably.

They did not join us back till the last day.

We always carry spare sets of essential items like stove, solar panels, etc. Johnny was carrying one full set and the team's battery cell, but we would be OK. Emotionally the loss of three team-mates were on my mind that night. Everyone contributed in their own way to make the team special and create experiences that were unique. We covered for each other’s egos and hubris to minimise risks. We gave each other something more to do things we could not as a single paddler.

Exploring a new place with like-minded people brought intense joy, knowing that you were sharing wonderful experience with paddlers who appreciate similarly at many levels of emotional and spiritual core. Yet an expedition was a journey. When individuals took different paths to create their own adventures, I could accept such variations.

The Equator Crossing, Part 4 (8/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Tue, 05 Feb 2013 07:36:00 +0000

Magostan of Salyo Village. Behind him the island of E10, and the hills of Waigeo.

Magostan was fishing in his home made Prahu when I spotted him from Bhas’ Crazies. I hesitated between paddling towards him and heading straight for the shade on Johnny’s Beach. How could he help?

“Apa Khabar Pak.”

“Baik.”

“Ikan? Besar?”

“Ada. Dari Mana?”

“Wayag. Pak, saya ta tahu sini di mana. Ada dua orang kawan ta tahu di mana. Tolong pergi bersama utara. Ada kawan di sana. Tolong?”, I pleaded with him to send me to Safety Beach with the best of my broken Bahasa.

“Saya kasih rupiah ok?”, I added.

Magostan jigged his line, which ran through his toes. He was lost in his thoughts and I was already thinking of a graceful goodbye.

“Situ?”, he pointed towards north.

“Ya...”

Magostan finally kept his line. He rearranged his life on his small prahu to make space for me.

“Tarik!”, he took out a rope and made a tying knot.

“No, no, atas bisa?”, I was concerned the weight of the kayak pulled through the Bhas’ Crazies would capsize it.

So with the kayak on board we crossed the Bhas’ Crazies towards Safety Beach. Every 5 minutes I would transmit my radio three times. If Johnny was in range and listening, he would reply.

45mins later and 2km from Safety Beach, the prahu sputtered to a stop. Magostan removed a plank and took out a liter of petrol.

“Habis...Tak cukop. Ini balik.”

“dua kilometers sahaja. Tolong?”, I was already planning whether to launch the kayak or go back with him.

“Balik...saya tak kuat.”, he pressed his biceps, made a painful face, and pointed towards Johnny’s Beach.

By this time I was sure they had reached Safety Beach. The current was nowhere as bad and today’s weather had been excellent. Even if they were dragged off course yesterday, they would had made it to Safety Beach today. The search was over. Now I needed to do a recovery, and for this I needed a bigger boat that could take 3 kayaks. The team was on their way to the village of Selpele where I could rent a bigger recovery boat.

“OK balik...”

On the way back, I relaxed and dozed off in the afternoon heat and drumming motor. The petrol finally ran out just before the Bhas Crazies. I took out a swath of seven 100K rupiah notes for Magostan. His eyes lit up immediately.

“Satu lagi?”, he grimaced his hands together, then pressed his biceps.

I was grateful and tired and gave him without arguing. I dare not ask how he was going back.

“Mau Ikan?!”, Magostan excitedly peeled off another plank to show me his fresh catch of large red snappers and barracudas. If only I didn’t need to do another 4 hours paddle....

“No...terima kasih banyak...”, I said.

“Tidur pantai situ. Makan. Besok saya tarik ke Selpele.”, he invited me to stay with him in his little blue tarp on E10 beach.

Instantaneously, I could see us enjoying smokey barracudas and pan-fried snappers on a nice beach. I could use the sat phone to coordinate the recovery. They could also recover me on the way back....but I regretted to inform you, Magostan, that I already had dinner plans.

“Rokok lagi...tolong?”, he grabbed a handful of kretek from my waterproof can.

Once the kayak was dropped, I set off to cross Bhas' Crazies for the third time.

The Equator Crossing, Part 3 (7/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Mon, 04 Feb 2013 12:47:00 +0000

Team having lunch at Johnny's Beach near E10, two hours after I left from the same beach. Tide had receded.
| Photo by Moira

I was totally exhausted after reaching E10. I abandoned the kayak and headed straight for the shade, staring at the coconut trees and wanting to chop down one. The swash came and claimed the poorly parked kayak. I limped over and pulled it higher and returned to the shade. The waves came once more. I went again to move the kayak to another position, closer to the shade. The waves came again and I was too tired to pull the heavy kayak any higher.

Perhaps I would not find them. There were some moments I was not sure the safety plan had worked. I looked at the beautiful beach and azure waters and decided to rename E10 to Johnny’s Beach... another wave crashed, and I watched the kayak slid into the waters. That made me angry, and I left the kayak to be this time. I went back to the shady spot and leaned hard against the rocks. My heart was beating faster than usual. It was 9am but I took out my lunch. I squeezed everything quickly into my mouth. There was no pleasure in savouring the packet of glutinous rice with chicken. I drank a litre of precious water.

I stood in the shade and watched the waves teasing my helpless kayak at the edge of the beach. Twisted threats vied with uncertain liberation...

"Where are they?"

Johnny and Bhas had an awful night. They sat through a chilly night in their wet clothes. Their mind played on the surf dragging them out. The mosquitoes and bugs harassed them uninhibited. They welcome the sounds of birds, as it meant morning could not be too long away. What could be better now than the warmth of the morning sun? They stretched out on the beach away from their nightmares. In the distance, they were surprised to see Bhas’ paddle laid on the sand. It had came back to him.

They looked at their map and considered their options. They were sleepless and very sore. The surf was pounding. They needed rest today instead of paddling, no matter what the plan said. At this moment, a boat passed. They waved it over. Anywhere else was better than “Hell’s Beach”! They would sort out the communications later.

Map of Pulau Kawe showing locations of kayakers, Raja Ampat.

On the first day in Papua, I remembered Johnny pointing out to me an area of dark blue on our map.

“Here...should avoid this area.”, Johnny pointed his finger at his ipad map on some squiggly wave symbols .

Max also wrote the word “dangerous” besides the big circle he drew. The Bhas’ Crazies was a vast area of tidal overfall. It was a wild fury of rapid currents, agitated waves, and whirling eddies in violent sequence. It was located between E10, where I was, and safety beach where they were. Looking at the mess of waters, I then realized that Johnny wasn’t going to paddle though here. If he was at Safety Beach, he was staying put. That greatly demotivated me, as it meant I had to paddle there just to say ‘hi’. I cursed myself for not respecting the first law of expedition - Murphy’s law.

Going around the Crazies would require an extra 2 hours of paddling - something I did not have time or energy for. I drew from the kretek and reconsidered. Whatever the scenarios, I needed to go to the safety beach. I rested for a long time under the shade. Then I moved and paddled to the edge of Bhas’ Crazies. I secured my sprayskirt and paddled in. The tossing was manageable but I could not detect where the main flow was, if any. I was making good headway north but there must be multiple tidal streams, for I was being twirled back south, then east. An hour of frustration later, I decided to swap Bhas’ Crazies for the sanctuary of Johnny’s Beach.

My first attempt failed, and it was to be the first of three attempts to cross Bhas’ Crazies today.

The Equator Crossing, Part 2 (6/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Sun, 03 Feb 2013 13:39:00 +0000

A brief glimpse in the rain showing the location of safety beach.

On the opposite end along Kawe's southern coast, Tiak was also stunned.

At one point during the night paddling, a gigantic creature rose from the water. It breached the surface without a splash and aimed down towards Tiak. He looked up to see a man-eating flower bending towards him.

Night paddling was always risky because we could not see. Everyone carried a strobe for individual marking, a waterproof headlight for searching, and a small pin light for reading. The moon tonight was a barely visible waxing crescent among the star burst. Everyone had their strobes on.

“Guys, please switch off your strobes....just follow the lead...”, with so many blinding strobes firing in every direction, it was disorienting. It was Pete’s strobe which caused Tiak to briefly hallucinate.

While we did not see the flower monster Tiak saw that night, what etched in our memory was nature’s display of lights in the skies and water. We had never seen so many shooting stars in one night, the sudden streak of brightness above us. Below us, the plankton rich waters glowed with the disturbances of our paddle blades. Voluminous bubbles of glowing green followed our kayaks as they sliced through the waters. The waters of Pulau Kawe was so rich that whenever we shone our search lamp into the waters, hundreds of fishes, big and small, jumped and splashed, agitating a sea of bioluminescence.

At 10pm, I went into another area of darkness, an indication that it was a bay or cove since we could not see the outline of cliffs. The tides had receded enough for me to notice a strip of beach with manageable surf. It was surprising getting very cold. The highlands of Pulau Kawe was sending down lots of cold draft.

“This can do.”, it was cold relief rather than excitement as I spoke to the radio.

The rest of team silently paddled in as I shivered and fumbled for my jacket. No words were exchanged as the bags were emptied out of the kayaks and into the vegetation. Pete went over to Rosie, gently gave her a peck on the cheek, and a warm rubbing hug.

There was still no word from the separated kayakers at midnight, after we had our dinner. The two satellite phones were with us, so there was no way to call them. They were probably on safety beach. The worst case scenario was they got swept away towards Sulawesi. But the weather was fine. Even if they were off course, they had enough food and water to survive without support for 6 days. They knew how to come back with the navigation gear they had. Although unlikely, it was the thought of worst case scenario that caused worry and stress.

At safety beach, they could stay and wait for us to re-establish contact, which was most likely. But they could also move, either to meet us at E12 or straight to the next agreed E-point at E9. If it was the former, they would come by the western shore, which was as shorter route to E12. If it was to E9, it was shorter to take the eastern route, passing by E10. I assumed they would not be worst off than us, and they would elect to continue paddling tomorrow. But where?

I would paddle towards safety beach tomorrow via the eastern coast. This took care of two hypotheses. To intercept them, I must start earlier than them. If they decide to paddle to E12 along the western coast, they would eventually crossed path with the rest of the team, who will proceed tomorrow to E9 (Selpele village) as planned. It was not yet a rescue mission.

I could sleep easier once I had this plan thought out. I had no urge to set up a tent for a few hours’ sleep. I lay on my hammock and repeated the scenarios again until I could almost feel them close by...but little did I know that even if I had made it to Safety Beach tomorrow, Johnny and Bhas would not be waiting there, nor would they paddle to any of the E-points as I thought they would...

The Equator Crossing, Part 1 (5/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Sat, 02 Feb 2013 15:29:00 +0000

Preparing to leave Wayag for the equator crossing to Pulau Kawe.

“Huey said if all hell broke loose, go to safety beach. We went there and landed in hell.”, Johnny told us 7 days after they were separated from the team, at our ‘reunion’.

The crossing to E12 (Pulau Kawe) started well. The sea was smooth and it was almost boring to paddle the flat and featureless channel. By 10am, storm clouds had formed on the east and with the prevailing easterly winds, enveloped us till the sun and blue skies were blocked out. Very soon, we could not see Pulau Kawe which was screened by a wall of dark grey rain. The horizon disappeared. We continued paddling at 150 degrees, using our deck compass for the right way.

“Aim for safety beach.”, that was the last radio message that Johnny heard.

When we could see Pulau Kawe again, we were able to get a reading of our drift. The currents had picked up so much we now need to aim at 100 degrees, drifting right to our original position. The receding tide was flowing west at almost 4km/hr, and with our heavy kayaks managing an average of 5km/hr, it meant we could be moving only 1km/hr.

“Aim for island west of Pulau Kawe, continue to E12 along the western shores.”, that was the message Johnny missed.

We lost contact with Johnny and Bhas at that point. It was 11am.

It was not until 5pm that we finally all met again, having drifted differently in two groups, and realized that Johnny and Bhas were not behind. At 7pm, we prepared for night kayaking. There was still no sightings of Johnny and Bhas. It was easier to spot one of us at night, so we hoped their lights would eventually be spotted. We had another immediate problem, having arrived at the recommended campsite, we found there was no beach. We were already 8km passed E12, today's E-point. Continue forward or paddle back?

20km away from us on the northern shores, Johnny and Bhas crashed their kayaks onto Safety Beach. The surf pounded their kayaks repeatedly, filling it with sand-mixed water, weighing the kayaks down. The gargling backwash powerfully sucked the kayaks with it. They flopped to the ground to leverage their body weight against the backwash, but the flooded kayaks now weigh twice than themselves. They were dragged back into the water by the kayaks. Bhas’ paddle leash snapped and his paddle floated away. Even if they had the strength to pull up the kayaks, immediately behind them was the trees. They had nowhere to keep the kayaks from the waves.

The rest of the team on the south decided to trace the coast back to E12. Chan and Pete said they saw some sheltered cove at E12, and urged us to paddle back. At night, the sound of surf was frightening because we could not see. And it did not sound too good continuing forward. Disintegration on the rocks always sounded closer than they were. Without warning, a rouge surf could whip us in, and lacerate our flesh with rocks. The crashing of waves into rocks and the reflected waves created a turbulent surface to paddle. The team paddled close and well away from the roars of water.

The many bays and coves I entered later to scout for campsite either had no beach, or had unnerving surf. The team had completely gone quiet, and often had to be called out to know everyone was still following. I had lead frustrated and emotional night paddlers before. The uncertainties of when and where the paddle would end caused lots of stress. I found that if one could just let go of time and space, laugh, and enjoy the bit of turbulence, it made for a happier landing.

I wasn't sure if Johnny and Bhas had a happy landing, but by this time, they had settled with the surf. The receding tides helped, exposing a strip of beach, and their adrenalin eased. In darkness they wearily relieved their bags from the kayaks. Johnny was convinced the surf was going to hit them at the next high tide. Leaving the kayaks on the beach was not safe. Camping was not safe. He convinced Bhas to stored their bags among the tree branches, and keep the kayaks off the ground. “Tied them to the branches.”, Johnny was having no doubts. “Carry the kayaks up, tied them down.”, he proposed. Johnny then took out his sarong, sat inside the kayak, wrapped himself up, and announced, “I am sleeping.”

Bhas was stunned.

On the opposite end along Kawe's southern coast, Tiak was also stunned.

A Trail to Wayag, part 2 (4/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Fri, 01 Feb 2013 10:52:00 +0000

The clear waters of Capsize Lagoon at Wayag Islands.

“I chartered this boat so that I can talk to you!”, SH raised her voice.

She had injured her shoulder attempting to cross the surf. When she could not continue, Halim took her to the CI (Conservation International) field post, the only permanent structure at Wayag. SH had told him she would like immediate medical attention. Halim could not decide and wanted her to talk to me. She chartered CI’s only boat to find us at E1.

“Sorry, not the best time to make a decision. You are already safely landed. It’s late. Go take a good rest and we talk tomorrow.”, I needed time to think.

“My decision will be the same tomorrow!”

“OK, we talk tomorrow. Good night.”

After dinner, I called for a team meeting for a consensus regarding SH. We had an obligation to help a fellow team mate along. If she had to be towed daily, load would have to be re-distributed to everyone. We should start and finish as a team. However if she indeed had a recurrence of her shoulder injury, she should be evacuated and seek medical attention.

With this consensus, we paddled to the CI field post early next morning and woke SH. I told her about the meeting and the team’s consensus, and asked for her decision so that we can continue with the expedition. SH shared her reasonings and pains. I listened. After two hours, she decided to evacuate. Halim made the arrangement, we wished her luck, and we paddled back to camp.

“Best possible outcome for everyone.”, Halim said as we paddled back.

When we finally paddled into the lagoons of Wayag, it was a different world that we could not had imagined still exist.

To be surprised by a place still pristine and see it with our own eyes betrayed our lack of faith with our human path. If pilgrims walked miles to restore their faith, then Wayag was a shrine that partially restored some of mine. There were still some places in this world evolved to its balance harmony and left untouched.

Wayag was a temple with silence as its guardian, enforced by a protective reef that fend off the most vicious waves. Inside this special grounds, creatures and corals abound. We didn’t come with spears and vroom, just a paddle. To enter Wayag on a kayak was to seek out the blessings of this guardian. Quietly with bow heads and earnest eyes, we saw life beautiful if we let it be, left it be. The untouched wonders of Wayag revealed to us, not just life underwater, but the sounds of unidentified birds, the colors of wild flowers that cling to the sharp limestone edifice. There was no map, just a following of one beautiful thing to the next.

At night we treated 60 liters of water that we bought from the CI field post. The CI staff had to collect them from a waterfall on Pulau Kawe, which was also where we would be paddling to tomorrow. E12 was located on the southern coast of Pulau Kawe. Fresh water were scarce on most of the limestone islands of Raja Ampat. There were none on Wayag. The other islands were either too small or the limestone too porous to retain sufficient fresh water. On Pulau Kawe however, the 2000+ feet mountain range could support small streams and provide fresh water.

Max Ammer, an veteran expat who had lived in Raja Ampat for 20 years, helped us when we met him before the expedition. He had marked out the beaches on Pulau Kawe and also warned that illegal nickel mining on Pulau Kawe had made some areas restricted. It had also dramatically changed its landscape, stripping whole slopes of forests, and open cutting its mountains till they bled. It could not be more different from the nature paradise of Wayag that we were in, just 18km away.

It would be our longest crossing of the expedition. Crossing was always risky as it left the team exposed to sudden changes in weather and water conditions, in open waters, with shelter some hours away. I pointed out a beach on the northern coast marked out by Max to Johnny and Chan. That would be safety beach - if all hell broke loose.

After spending two nights at Wayag, we prepared to move the expedition from the northern to the southern hemisphere. For some of us interested in maps and geography, it meant we were crossing the equator line. We did not expect to see a line on the sea or transit to a different dimension. It was just special to see the GPS unit displaying all zeros for the longitude and latitude readings. It was seeing these zeros that made the crossing a little more interesting. I thought we should stop at the equator and take a picture as a souvenir, since it was the first equator kayak crossing for all of us.

We did cross the equator tomorrow, but was swiftly moved out of the way.

A Trail to Wayag, part 1 (3/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Thu, 31 Jan 2013 14:05:00 +0000

The Lesser Frigatebirds soared higher with each circle they traced.

This morning there was a struggle of light and dark. We sat around watching the slow born of purple. The Lesser Frigatebirds were at sea level with us, hanging just above the ocean waves. Slowly they soared higher with each circle they traced, held aloft by an invisible breeze beneath their wings. These majestic birds, recognizable by their notched tail and slender wings, were seen by us daily. Upon reaching sufficient height, they swooped beyond our island, one after another.

We watched darkness won. Rain felled over us. It ended the breakfast early and should had set everyone off for the departure prep. But the rain made us unsure about packing our soaked tents and gear. Being dry, in whatever forms, seemed to be high on priority despite the impracticality. We took out the kayaks that were stored inside the vegetation and readied them for loading on the beach.

Our folding kayaks were designed for long sea expeditions. Because they were made of ‘skin’ and ‘bones’, they performed well by responding to changes in the environment. The first few days of expedition allowed the folding kayak to find its shape to match our load and sea conditions. With the load we were carrying, the skin would stretch and we had to tighten loose tension by extending the aluminum frame. It was akin to having a sensitive animal we had to care for as our transport. Four kayaks required adjustments this morning and this delayed our departure.

When the adjustments were done, the rain had also stopped. Rain that fell on to the leaves, rolled down the branches of trees, and wasted into the sand. Enough rain had pooled on my nylon cockpit cover that it weighed a puddle. I kneeled to suck in the rain water. It was fresh and cool. We were thirsty. Because we had only another 3 days of water supply left, we were unwisely conserving water despite the dangers.

We entered the Two Surf lagoon late morning and stayed inside its tranquility to enjoy a long lunch and cooling off. There were two entrances, one with easy surf and the other big roaring surf. Inside, we found impossible clear water and peace. It was a day of discovering such breathtaking lagoons, each bigger and more intricate than the last. It was at the last lagoon, that the surf took out one kayaker.

I looked at the surf for a long time, thinking if I should be the first one through or last one out. The surf on the left looked smaller and if the timing was right, passable. I slowly paddled towards the outlet, adjusting my speed to let the biggest ones crashed and riding above the smaller ones. Most of the team followed, except three.

Tiak was the only kayak who emerged from the second group.

“Where are Johnny and SH?!”

“They drifted to the center. I saw them vertical. Like that!”, Tiak lifted up both palms.

A huge surf had came bellowing in, pole struck their kayaks, and barrel rolled them into the reefs. Anything not secured was floating or sinking. Johnny saw his ipad floating away and made a grab for it. Another surf crashed and rolled them again. And again.

We were waiting outside the outlet for the carnage to be over. I sat up and saw two capsized kayaks.

Raja Ampat Kayak Expedition: Uranie to Quoy (2/15)

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Tue, 29 Jan 2013 02:55:00 +0000

Kat along the vertical limestone walls of Uranie.

“Halim! Chan! Come out now with the kayaks!”, I shouted over the radio.

I was still on the water 3 hours after what was supposed to be a short 6km warm-up paddle. SH was missing. Everyone was back at campsite except her. I retraced the northern Uranie walls and I could not spot her. She was probably on the southern side of island paddling in God-knows direction and I needed someone to block her, instead of chasing her around the island.

The worst case scenario was she capsized along the walls, where the water was very rough. Hence the urgency to deploy the block so that I could paddle and have a look at the calm side of the island. With Halim and Chan in place as the northern ‘block’, and Johnny the relay station back to camp, I started towards the southern coast.

“Huey, huey!!!”, SH’s voice came over the radio.

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Keep the island to the right and paddle until you see one of us. Otherwise, head west.”

It was almost 2pm when we re-organized and packed. We were late. I pushed for an immediate start to E3, our next stop. We had 32 E-points on the safety map, pre-determined locations that were coded to minimize misunderstanding and mispronunciation. Good maps of Raja Ampat were hard to find, and the various maps used had no standardized names.

The paddle to E3 was pleasant. Those who felt queasy during the warm-up paddle felt better, stronger, and happier. The currents made light the load of our kayaks. Our minds wandered when the feeling on the water was good. After spotting dolphins yesterday, every floating object looked like the back of a wild creature. Such was our expectations of this pristine wilderness, that shadows made us paused and looked harder. But we hoped not to see the saltwater crocodiles that still roamed Raja Ampat. This specie of reptile can grow to more than 5 meters and were known to be aggressive hunters. I brought a stiletto and kept it on me at all times, believing the croc to grab and dive, giving me some minutes to puncture its tough skin. As a safety prevention, known croc habitats were marked out of our route.

Just like yesterday, there were surf landing on the beaches when we arrived at E3. The landing had to be calculated. Which part of the beach to land, when to hook out the pivot leg, when to dismount, and who were on shore to grab the kayak. Because the kayaks were heavily loaded, beaching must be avoided. With 35kg of load, each kayak now weigh close to 60kg. If carried, we would either break our back or the kayak.

One following the other, we approached carefully. Near enough, the upwash would deposit our kayaks high on the beach. Almost immediately the swash would dragged us back. ‘Crashed’ would be a better word to described some landings, as the powerful surf slammed Chan’s kayak against the beach, bending the frames inside and damaging it. Between the crashing waves and sucking backwash, we emptied the load quickly. For the neat packers, these would be 4-5 drybags stored inside and on top of the kayaks. It required a couple of dashes from the kayak to the vegetation, until one realized there were also 10 bottles of water...

The landing commotion ended near sunset, when the receding tide left our kayaks out of reach of the crawling backwash. Finally we could relaxed, swam, or watched the sunset. You knew the day was over when someone asked you how the day went, or offered you a kretek, or share a drink. On a quiet and deserted beach, voices amplified enough for you to know camping on the beach was not feasible, and the tents had to be set into the vegetation. And when I saw the first tent came up, it was then that I could find ways to wind down the adrenalin and planned my night.

I took a walk along the beach, now fully exposed and basked by the pink of sunset. Even at this remote beach there were rubbish everywhere - bottles, foams, plastic packagings, and interestingly lots of rubber slippers. I guessed there were too many easy ways of losing slippers. I walked around looking for a pair of slippers that fit my feet, having lost mine. Already there was a puncture under my right foot. Papuans wore only size 8 and below....what were big on the beach were huge logs cleanly cut at both ends. Papua has the largest tract of rainforest in the world ready to be exploited. Logging perhaps? It was disappointing to find rubbish on such a remote beach. But I guessed floating trash had to wash up somewhere in the world. With no sweepers, a clean remote beach must be an exception rather than the norm.

Among all the mess of marine debris, the most useful driftwoods were gathered to make a fire. We sat on the large logs that we could not move, and quietly waited for the stove of water to boil. Johnny, being among three of us who was recovering from flu, sprawled asleep. Others were unsure what their bodies were telling them. The first few days of an expedition were the most tiring, as the body adjusted to the demands of less food and more exertion. For those joining such expeditions for the first time, it could be a painful adjustment. Dinner tonight was 150g of chicken ration and 50g of wheat rice each, a disappointing meal after a tiring day.

When you don’t get enough of anything, it will only get worse before it gets better.

Raja Ampat Kayak Expedition: An Injection

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Sun, 27 Jan 2013 09:28:00 +0000

One at a time from the boat, a bag carried over the head, passed to a pair of arms, and then to a pair of team on the beach...photo by Moira

一艘单舟, 一杆划桨, 一颗好奇的心

在世界的一端准备启航,

探索神秘幽深的珊瑚三角

淡粉红的暮色中,

一对瓶鼻海豚相伴漫游,

献上温馨的祝福

是平静, 是自由, 是向往, 暖上心头

~ poem by Ling

Each time the surf came, it drove our boat towards shore. A few times, the boat lurched forward and was almost wrecked on the sand. Our fate depended on 2 ropes - one handled at the bow and the other tied to the anchor. The papuan boatmen pulled the ropes and worked the throttle skillfully, keeping the boat outside the crash zone. Eventually they gave up trying to anchor the boat near shore, instead dropping anchor 15 meters out.

All 600+kg of gear and 200kg of water then had to be brought on shore.

One at a time from the boat, a bag carried over the head, passed to a pair of arms, and then to a pair of team on the beach...all the bags, water, and gear were passed on to dry land. Despite most of our gear in waterproof bags, no one wanted their bags wet, especially not the batteries and papers. It was a slow parade of bags in varying types and colors, proving their dependable worth for the expedition ahead.

The heaviest bags weighed 30kg and these contained a folding kayak each. These packable kayaks were made of skin and frame. When assembled, they transformed into a sea worthy 4.5 meters expedition sea kayak, with capacity to carry our food, water, and gear for 2 weeks. When a surf approached, it was hard to lift these kayak bags over the crest. The papuan carriers jumped and heaved, barely keeping them dry.

To speed up the transfer, 12 boxes of water were thrown from the boat and pushed to shore. But their cardboard boxes were easily ripped apart by the surf and the bottles scattered about. It was salvage.

Most papuans we met later unanimously agreed we were gila. First we paid the price of a house to be taken to the edge of nowhere. Then, we plan to paddle 250km back. Why paddle for 12 days if a spitboat could do it in 5 hours? If the boatmen shared similar thoughts, they were not showing much. Once the last bottle was salvaged, the empty boat rev up its twin engines and turned to leave. It would go back to Sorong, where we we picked up, and the boat would had consumed more than 1,000L of petrol...we were gila?

Upon hearing the reverberations, we stood up among the multi-colored bags and waved our gratitude. We were left on Pulau Coquille, a deserted island. An old growth sea almond tree, some bent coconut trees, so many hermit crabs; all with us for the night.

“Let’s fix up the kayaks and tents.”

Ling opened her kayak bag and stared at the mess of metal and rubber. “25 minutes”, she remembered Huey saying when she first received her dream craft. Having taken more than two hours in practice, the target felt impossible. What consoled her was the couple of daylight hours left, sufficient to set up camp and fix up her kayak.

The wet top was clinging on to her torso, and pants sticking to her thighs. It was Day 0. We had many days to be wet, but please not today. Most of us wanted to wear the same clothes back home. Clothes ranked last in the packing list where each gram was counted. We had 3 precious sets for 15 days. Changed and preserved the good clothes or just get on with it? The insect repellent was probably somewhere deep inside one of the dry bags. Malaria was a problem in this area. Get on with it? Recovering from flu - get on with it? These were Ling’s initiation rites.

Salt dried on her clothes, mixed with sweat, sand, and dead insects, Ling’s kayak was slowly taking shape. Sometimes she heard gadget-junkie Johnny spoke, a dictum in kayak assembly among the sound of crashing waves, clicking metal parts, and slaps of her insect-assaulted skin.

“Dolphins!”, I shouted.

Ling stood up and fixed a gaze towards the sea.

A pod of bottlenose dolphins had graced past our campsite. Like dancers arching their backs, a pair of them curved to the rhythm of the waves. As they broke from the surface, their skin glistened in the pink glow of the sunset. They were home free in this waters, perhaps aware and curious about the presence of fellow mammals. Peace and warmth tingled within Ling...

Raja Ampat is the heart of the coral triangle, with the greatest concentration of marine biodiversity in the world. With a kayak, we would paddle island to island, not to hunt or exploit, but to discover and explore where our kayaks would bring us. A 12-day kayak expedition to the eastern edge of southeast asia.

It was not a night for long reflection. We had travelled more than 24 hours to get here, barely sleeping. Tomorrow would be the first time everyone got together on the water, all 13 of us. And if our first display of teamwork was to get the bags on shore today, then the second act would be to organize a search for a lost kayaker tomorrow...

____
For the rest of this story and more pictures, also visit facebook.com/kayakasia

Raja Ampat Kayak Expedition

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Mon, 03 Dec 2012 12:46:00 +0000

The sea is our largest tract of wilderness. It is possible to spend days on the sea without seeing another person or hear a man-made sound. The horizon always in front, sometimes the bending land or the small misty shape of an island I am paddling towards. I enjoy the rhythm and solitude. The times when I hear only the wind, I think of nothing, and the sea think nothing of me.

Spending more than one day on the sea and extending days forward becomes an expedition, where daily necessities have to be considered. Sea kayak touring, in its purest form, is a self-supporting endeavor to a place unknown. The kayak is loaded with enough food, water, and shelter in its holds for weeks. On deck, a map and compass aid to navigate to unknown places. Seeing these places for the first time on a kayak, on our own power, is an amazing experience. There are still many places within our region like this.

In a few days a kayak team will depart for one of the remote places in our region, a group of islands outside a bird's head shaped peninsula also known as Raja Ampat. An area with 610 islands, mostly uninhabited broken karst islets. The second expedition in a 3-part series to explore the edge of our region and paddle our isolated waters. What will we discover?

Paddling at the edge of our region, far from the outside while looking inside, between the fine curve of knows and unknowns, with dramas of movement...an attempt for a brief glimpse at harmony. That was the unfolding adventure during Song 1.

This is Song 2.

End of July

noreply@blogger.com (fullmoon) — Wed, 01 Aug 2012 20:10:00 +0000

I pressed towards bed resolving to paddle the next morning. Despite countless packing for such trips, I still spent a good hour getting everything ready.

Then, I had only one piece of everything, a complete set packed into my only kayak bag. With the prepared pack, the day had to get ready for me. Several kayaks and paddles later, it was no longer going to a high school prom. Some vanity minutes fretting over what boat to bring and what paddle to use.

The packing started as a memory mess. One must remember to bring a fully charged phone, but sometimes one can forget about the waterproof case and the lanyard to secure it. Sunglasses or sunscreen were often left behind if the packing happened at night. Eventually I had to pull out the checklist and go through each line to make sure. Yet the checklist did not add a second step about filling up the bottle you must bring...

Getting out for a few hours require the same gear as getting out for a week, especially if one is paddling out solo. Ignore our first law of Murphy at our own peril - a contradiction of expedition kayakers, whose first law ought to be optimism to go out to the mighty sea. With the checklist one quickly picked up items for comms, route, safety gear, even stopping a few seconds considering a pee bag. There might a need to call someone, dump water, repair a leak, cut a rope...each a small reality check in an otherwise fantasized perfect day out at sea. Before paddling out, the sky is always sunny, the sea calm, the tides favorable, and the breeze sweet...

You tell yourself that tomorrow you will leave behind the constraint of land, the worries, the demands and mania, and feel the world moves at your own power and pace. That is the promise of freedom by an alluring sea. And even before touching the water, the connection with the sea had began as my eyes lapsed, and my continuous thoughts meet its big blue expanse...